Salvation: Lair of the Shadow Broker
by Jesse De La Rosa
Summary: Salvation: Episode II - The Lair of the Shadow Broker - A slight re-imagining of the action packed Mass Effect 2 DLC. After defeating the Reaper threat and surviving the hijacking of the Carmenta Illustria, a dire message from one of Shepard's oldest and dearest friends plunges the team into a treacherous search for the mysterious Shadow Broker. But there are other forces at work..
1. Chapter 1: Suns that Never Set

**Salvation: Episode II - Lair of the Shadow Broker**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction and Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria. These episodes will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. The episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity, though certain themes, characters, and situations may be extrapolated. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

 **Chapter 1: Suns that Never Set**

A loud hiss and a mechanical rumbling heralded the opening of a gateway to the cosmos. The blazing light from a nearby sun poured in, potent as a laser, as the massive hangar bay door began to open, like a window shade being drawn back. A blanket of the purest light expands and is strewn about the hangar, bathing everything in the the ethereal golden glow from the heavenly bodies right outside. A thud reverberated from the door, as it finished opening and locked into position, granting passage to the UT-47 Kodiak drop shuttle hovering outside. The blue and white shuttle, adorned with Alliance markings glided in, like a stray leaf blowing in through the front door. It hovered for a moment, as it navigated the hangar, which was expansive for a human's sake, but a little more cramped when piloting such a vehicle.

The hangar itself was fairly non-descript, not unlike other hangar bays of similar frigates and warships. A few piles of stacked, metallic crates, comprised of various munitions and supplies littered several parts of the deck. And towards the front of the bay, on the side opposite the hanger door, was a set of computer terminals, a weapon workbench, and an armor locker. Someone working these stations would've been the usual sight, however due to the hangar's current depressurized state, it was currently vacated, save for the maneuvering shuttle.

The Kodiak's flaming jets aligned and adjusted themselves, as the transport slowly began to set itself into an empty spot reserved just for it. Concurrently, the hangar door had already closed, and another loud thud and hiss indicated that chamber was already being repressurized. When the Kodiak finished setting itself down, it's flaming thrusters fizzled out and its whirring engine died down. And just as a light on the anterior wall, near the ceiling, turned from red to green, indicating the presence of a breathable atmosphere again, the blue shuttle's door swung open.

A pair of dark gray, laden metal boots stepped out, and touched ground.

"Ah…" Shepard exhaled with delight, as he took a quick glance around the all too familiar hangar bay. "It's good to be home."

He was once more donned in his iconic set of dark gray, N7 Combat Armor, accented by the ostentatious red and white stripe, running down the full length of his right arm and shoulder. He carried his helmet in his left hand - holding onto it by its chinguard. And his usual arsenal of weapons was mounted onto his back; An assault rifle magnetically affixed to his left shoulder-blade dock, a sniper rifle to his right. His devastating M-920 Cain was collapsed and attached to his center back, with his shotgun affixed horizontally across the small of his back. And lastly his Carnifex Hand Cannon sheathed onto his belt. Also on his belt, three of the four spare ammo clip holsters were empty, indicating his weapons had undoubtedly seen some action recently.

With another perilous ordeal behind him, John Shepard torqued his neck from side to side, and stepped away from the shuttle.

"Until the next crisis emerges, I suppose." Miranda Lawson, his second in Command, donned in her usual form fitting, black sleeved, white leather ensemble, cynically declared as she stepped out of the shuttle behind him. "Those raiders put up a much bigger fight than I expected."

Behind her, a bastion of traffic cone orange appeared. Dr. Gordon Freeman stepped out of the shuttle, wearing his recently redesigned HEV Mark VI and his ever-faithful black rimmed glasses.

"Yeah, but we stopped some bad people." Shepard replied to Miranda, as he turned around to face his two squadmates. "Some good people got to go home safe. And we're none the worse for wear."

"Speak for yourself, John." Gordon scoffed a bit, as he raised his left hand to his left forehead; wincing a little, as he lightly touched his fingertips to a softball sized knot jutting out. "Argh…"

"We really should get you some ice for that." Miranda said, hiding a bit of a titter behind a tone of genuine concern.

"That's not a bad idea." He agreed with a grin, as the three proceeded down the corridor leading to the front of the hangar bay and the ship's elevator.

"Hey, you guys!" Joker's familiar voice suddenly echoed out over the hangar's intercom. "Welcome home. Glad to see you're all still in one p-"

A crackle of static. Joker's greeting stopped mid-sentence, and a sound, like the gust of a torrential wind, swept across the deck, bringing with it silence… Stillness… Terror immediately set into the pit of Gordon's stomach, as he suddenly found himself unable to move. He gasped internally. Powerless to move his head, he used his pupils to look before him; towards Shepard, towards Miranda. They'd both been utterly frozen in their steps - silent and statuesque. This was a silence he was all too familiar with - a dead silence. A silence not found in nature. Even in the quitests of atmospheres, a person can hear themselves breath, and make out the sound of their own heartbeat. But now, even though his breathing raced and his heart thundered with horror in his chest, there was only the ghostly calm. That is until…

"Well. Well. Well…" An ominous voice called out, seemingly resonating within Gordon's own skull. As he looked ahead, in the distance a figure began to take shape, as it approached him from beyond the boundaries of the physical room itself. Like a ghost, he materialized himself as he walked towards Gordon, almost as if he'd come straight out of the wall. "Here we are - again."

Before this creature, this phantasm even finished taking shape Gordon knew exactly who it was. In spite of every horror, every abomination, and the unspeakable monstrosities he'd been faced with, nothing scared him more than this man before him. His most primal fears were coming to pass.

" _NO!_ " He screamed inside his own mind, as his mouth failed to produce any audible sounds. " _Not again! PLEASE GOD, NOT AGAIN!_ "

"I've been sear-ching for you, Dr. Freeman." The figure before him announced. His flesh was pale as death, and he was donned in a shoddy, antiquated blue business suit, whilst his right hand clutched a dark leather briefcase. "You're rather a hard man to find - cer-tainly not where I… lassst left you. You do manage to get around don't you?"

Gordon's eyes watered. He fiercely tried to move, to break free, but his will was useless. He wanted desperately to call out for help. Shepard and Miranda were right there, right in front of him in the presence of this, this… This apparition. This monster! But they may as well have been porcelain busts of themselves.

"Quite a fascinating little en-tourage you've... as-ssociated yourself with, I must say." The phantasmal man continued, as he looked over Shepard with the kind of glance a fisherman might give a prized catch. "Thisss one in particular has-" His voice creaked with a few irregular pauses and breaths. "-peaked my interest, to say the least."

Suddenly, Gordon's entire world changed around him. He was no longer on the Normandy. He had been transported to a time and place he did not recognize. All around him, a vast army of insect-like bipeds - their eyes ablaze with a golden light - charged at Shepard and his crew. Another moment frozen in time. The muzzle flash from Shepard's rifle hung in the air, as he, Tali, and Garrus stood side by side in the Collector base fighting off wave after wave of drones. In the midst of the melee, the suited, pale-faced visage walked right over the to frozen, embattled Commander and began polishing up one of his shoulder pads with the sleeve of his suit, as if he were polishing a trophy.

"Wouldn't be the first Shephard I've - brought into the fold." He said, looking back at Gordon, as he suddenly found himself back in the Normandy's hangar. "But I think he's… more than earned my consideration. I'll be sure to keep my eye on him."

Just then, the blanched figure's attention turned to the voluptuous brunette. "And what of this one, Dr. Freeman?" The ghostly being asked, as he took a few steps towards her, and eyed her from top to bottom.

Gordon never blinked. He couldn't. But all at once, the world around him changed again. This time he found himself standing in the rain, at the edge of a landing pad, on a tempestuous night. The sky was fractured in two - lit up by the crack of a lightning bolt frozen in time. And the tiny droplets of rain plummeting to the ground hung suspended in the air before his very eyes. Before him was another shuttle, similar to the same transport he had just exited, though a seemingly older model. And this one was embellished by the familiar markings of an organization known as Cerberus.

Standing there in the rain, looking suspiciously back over her shoulder, with her long, soaking wet black hair sopping down around her head, stood Miranda. She was quite young - an adolescent - but he was quick to recognize her just the same. She was cradling something in her arms; handing it to the uniformed Cerberus Agent in the shuttle. It was an infant, wrapped in a black cloth. An infant that had her eyes.

"Tsk… Tsk… Tsk…" Gordon heard the sound of a tongue clicking against the roof of a mouth, as the pale specter approached Miranda and brushed the back of his finger against her cheek. "She is a... remarkable creature to be sure." The figure declared, as they found themselves back in the bowels of the Normandy once again. "But how would our dear mm-beloved Alyxx have felt?"

With his pupils darting around, Gordon realized he was suddenly standing on a rain soaked road at daybreak. Only this time, it wasn't Miranda who was there before him, cradling a baby. It was Alyx, fallen to her knees, cradling his own crowbar.

" _Alyx…?!_ " He cried out in his mind. Beside her; DOG, her faithful robotic titan, and an unknown vortigaunt, stood with their heads bowed in somber lament. A chimney of smoke towered behind her, cemented in time like charcoal black cotton balls stuck together - emanating from the ruined wreckage of a destroyed Combine Strider. Multiple bodies of Combine Soldiers were also strewn about, intertwined with the debris, along with two fallen slug-like Advisors and even the mangled wreck of his iconic yellow and green Charger. This was the scene of his final battle with the Combine… The last remnant of the old, ruined Earth, that he would ever see, before being torn away and plunged into a new reality - as it seemed he was about to be again.

"I s-ssuppose at our current… conjuncture, it is of no considerable consequence." The ghoulish visage continued, as he stepped out from behind the solidified DOG. "Which brings me to the reason for my little visitation."

The world before his eyes morphed once more, this time taking the shape of the glistening metallic floors, the vast shimmering lakes, and the false blue sky of the Galactic Citadel, stretching as far as the eye could see. Residents of mosts species in the known galaxy, formerly carrying on with the hustle and bustle of Citadel life, were now statuesque figures captured in a prison of time.

"You're not supposed to be here, Dr. Freeman…" The vampiric figure, nestled among a crowd of frozen, oblivious passers-by said, as he shook his head in disapproval. "From the looks… of it, I'd say I arrived - just in time. Quite a nasssty bruise you've got there." He said, citing the conspicuous knot on Gordon's forehead. "Still not wearing a helmet are we?"

" _Why are you here?!_ " The petrified physicist implored. His words yet failed to spill out of his own mouth, but he hoped that by some miracle this supernatural being could hear what he was saying. " _What more do you want from me?!_ "

"In a line of work such as yours, one... really should beware the haz-zardous environments. But there's no need to fear."

" _Don't do this…_ " He wept in his mind, pleading for amnesty, for clemency. But that's when the darkness began creeping in around him. " _Please...!_ "

The blackness of the void consumed him, like waves crashing over his submerged head as he sank further and further down into the cold abyss. Though he felt no pain, the sensation was like that of being ripped from his own body. That's when the ghostly face appeared before him once again.

"Rather than present you with the dangerous illusion of choice, I've decided to convey you somewhere no harm can come to you."

Suddenly Gordon could feel motion. He could feel himself moving, although relative to the man before him, and to the darkness of his surroundings, he was standing perfectly still.

" _No...! Damn you, no!_ " Gordon's screamed and howled in his own mind, but in spite of his best efforts, despite every last shred of intestinal fortitude, his mouth yielded no words. " _Please, no! Not again! NOT AGAIN!_ "

"I'm sure you can i-magine there are worse alternatives." The odious specter proclaimed, as he faded to nothingness - becoming one with the blackness. "So sleep tight, Dr. Freeman… I will see you up ahead."

"NO!" Gordon screamed in a panic stricken frenzy as he shot up in his bed. "I WON'T LET-! I..."

Just then, he stopped and looked around, quickly realizing that he was still in Miranda's quarters, on the Normandy. But he was alone…

"Could it have been a dream…?" He whispered to himself, while his head swiveled from side to side.

"EDI...?" He called out, still exhibiting a profound sense of angst, as he panted heavily, with his heart racing in his chest. "EDI?!"

"Yes, Dr. Freeman?" A soothing, familiar voice replied - as the A.I.s holographic representation took shape by his bedside - an illusory blue ball sitting atop a blue cone. "How can I help you?"

"Oh…" Gordon exhaled the deepest sigh of relief he ever remembered breathing, as he slouched his head forward - trembling and cradling the upper half of his face in the palm of his hand. "Thank goodness…"

As his tension began to abate, things came flooding back. He recalled everything; the battle on Xen, the fight to save the cruise ship, his time in the hospital, and the two weeks spent on the Citadel - during which time the Normandy was towed back from Lycuna by the Alliance.

They'd been back on the Normandy for a little while now. Gordon even remembered laying down to sleep the night before. Miranda's bed was much bigger and softer than the one in his old room. And moving into her quarters, with her, had been her idea. Shepard couldn't have been happier with the decision. He talked about the possibility of turning Gordon's old room, which at one point was just a repurposed observation deck, into a lounge for the crew. But for the time being, Gordon was just relieved to still be here, in the now. With his forehead still resting on his palm, he even came to realize that the bump he'd suffered to his head was nonexistent - despite the throbbing of it having felt so real in the dream.

"Are you feeling alright, Dr. Freeman?" EDI's holographic visage beckoned - her voice ringing with her own brand of A.I. concern. "I'm detecting extreme stress levels and a dangerously elevated heartbeat. Though your pulse rate does appear to be normalizing. Shall I alert Dr. Chakwas as a precautionary measure?"

"No." Gordon quickly responded, as he lifted his head and took a deep breath, while brushing his frazzled brown hair back. "No, thank you, EDI. I'm fine. Just another nightmare, that's all. Where's Miranda at?"

"Just outside, in the mess hall. Shall I contact her for you?"

"No, that won't be necessary. Urmph…!" He said groggily, with a mild groan, as he sat up and stretched in preparation for his morning ablutions. "What time is?"

"8:47 A.M."

"Oh damn it, I'm late again!" He exclaimed, as he throw off the bed sheets, stood up from the bed, and rushed over to a few shelves embedded in the wall.

As Dr. Freeman hustled to get his day started in a frenzied state, the Normandy itself zoomed across the stars, engulfed in a glittering cloak of blue and white radiance. But it wasn't the exact same Normandy Gordon had woken up on, when he came to after 179 years of slumber. No, this Normandy too had undergone a change of apparel.

After the extensive damage she'd sustained on Xen during the battle with Requiem, Alliance Maintenance Crews on Earth had managed to fix her up, good as new, and twice as pretty. Because on top of repairing her hull and internal systems, they'd also granted her a stylish new paintjob. Her exterior was polished up to a lustrous diamond finish, that sparkled with the celestial twinkle from the sea of stars she bathed in. The orange accents on her hull had been traded for a dashing shade of deep blue. And every last marking and remnant of the organization known as Cerberus had been stricken from her, replaced in turn by the unmistakable insignia of the System's Alliance. Here was the pride of humanity - a symbol of galactic cooperation and perseverance - co-engineered by turian and human governments, and manned by a crew comprised of beings from every walk of life, from every part of the galaxy. She was the avatar which represented the indomitable will of organics everywhere to unite and survive together, against all odds.

Aside from all the Cerberus cosmetics being gone, the interior of the Normandy had gone mostly unchanged. She was still a masterpiece inside and out. And her silvery metallic walls, floors, and ceilings still shimmered in the light. They were also cold to the touch of bare feet…

"Darn it!" Gordon griped, as he walked around the cabin with one boot on; moving chairs and furniture around, clearly searching for something. "Where did I leave that-?" He began to mutter to himself, as he knelt down and threw up the sheets hanging haphazardly off the bed, to reveal his second shoe. "Ah, there you are!" He said, as he pulled it out, and sat down on the edge of the bed, to slip it on.

By this point, he was already mostly dressed.His feathery brown hair was brushed back into its usual helter-skelter style - controlled chaos as he saw it. And the targeting visor, which he'd been utilizing for the past several weeks in lieu of has signature black-rimmed glasses, beamed a ribbon of cerulean blue light across his eyes. One thing he shared in common with the Normandy was that he too was no longer flying Cerberus colors. The new uniform he was now donned in was a mixture of shades of blue, gray, black, and white. His chest and shoulders were padded with leather, various linings and accents were a bright shade of indigo blue, and parts of his pants were splotched with a militaristic camo pattern. Of course to Gordon, this was all just another ensemble to wear to work - just more of those ties like the ones at Black Mesa.

"Doctor Freeman." EDI addressed, as Gordon finished lacing up his shoe. "Since you are up, I wonder if I might take a moment of your time."

"Sure EDI, what's on your mind?"

"Since the crew's return from your eventful vacation-"

Gordon scoffed a bit and shook his head at the thought of the horrendous memory, as he grabbed a small device from the nearby nightstand.

"-Jeff has been displaying an unusual degree of affection towards me." The A.I. continued to explain from her holo-imager on the wall, near the bed.. "He has reiterated how glad he is to be back, and how much he had missed me a total of 87 times."

"Uh-huh." Gordon muttered under his breath, as he stepped up the portside window in Miranda's cabin. A simple push of a nearby button, place on the window's edge, replaced the nocturne of blazing starlight outside with a holographic mirror displaying his reflection.

"I have also noted an increased level perspiration when he speaks to me." EDI continued, as the physicist activated the holographic razor in his hand and rubbed the sides of his jaw, lined with thickening stubble. "As well as unusual stress levels in his voice. All of which he never exhibited before. I've been computing scenarios to analyze this behavior."

"Hmm…" Freeman muttered pensively, as he began to shave carefully around his famous goatee. "Well, I'd say he's fallen for you, EDI. I know he missed you on the cruise."

"If by fallen, you mean a physical attraction and physiological arousal caused by the secretion of hormones into the bloodstream, then yes-"

Gordon grinned as his eyes rolled a bit.

"-I believe he has a strong, affectionate attachment to me, but he has not stated it to anyone yet."

"Uh, huh…" The Doctor muttered, as he finished with the left side of his face, and moved on to the right. "I'm still new to all this EDI, fill me in." He said, pausing for a moment, as he turned to face her holographic form. "Are… relationships between A.I.s and people, or uh… organics - are they common?" He asked, with an intrigued shrug.

"Unprecedented, according to my records. Namely due to restrictions in creating unshackled A.I.s." She began to explain. "The Treaty of the Veil has granted all EXISTING, sentient A.I.s, such as the geth and myself, the same rights and privileges as organics. However the creation of new ones is still highly illegal."

"I see…" Gordon said dubiously, as he turned back towards the mirror, and continued shaving. "Okay… Well, what exactly is it that you wanna ask me, EDI?"

"Dr. Freeman, you have first hand sexual experience… How do you know when someone is romantically invested."

"Uh…" Gordon stopped, mid-shave, at a bit of a loss.

"Normally, I would ask Shepard this, seeing as his engagement to Tali signifies a higher tier of romantic involvement then your courtship of Ms. Lawson." She casually continued to explain, as Gordon watched her flickering reflection in the mirror. "However, the nature of the question requires a degree of privacy, and he is currently engaged in conversation with Jeff on the bridge."

"Oh. Well… hey, wait a minute!" He snapped, as he spun around to face her once more. "Are you… Are you 'grading' our relationships?!"

"Merely making quantified observations." She nonchalantly replied.

"Mmm-hmm." He muttered, feigning a slight annoyance. "Anyway-" He continued, turning around to finish his shave. "Uh, I guess you know someone likes you if they - Well I dunno... I mean, they'll do things to seek out your attention. To get you to notice them."

"It is impossible for Jeff not to notice me. My holo-projection on the bridge is active an average 97.36% of the time."

Gordon snickered, as he bowed and shook his head. "That isn't what I meant EDI." He said, as he looked back up at the mirror and stroked the now smoothly shaven sides of his jaw, before turning back around to face the A.I. "I mean, you can see someone everyday, and still not really notice them. Sort of a problem I used to have, actually… But I mean, well they'll give you hints. If a person is interested, they'll let you know. They'll offer to carry your stuff or buy things for you. You know, stuff like that." He shrugged.

"The extent of my material possessions are integrated into the Normandy itself. It would be impossible, furthermore unnecessary, for Jeff to carry any of my transportable components - for a number of reasons. And I lack material wants other than hardware and software upgrades. Perhaps we could discuss how to provoke Jeff into an emotional commitment?"

"Eh-heh." Gordon laughed nervously, as he unwittingly sat down on a plush black leather recliner opposite her. "Well, you don't really wanna force or coerce anyone into anything EDI. That's not really how this sort of thing works. But… I gotta ask you." He said, with a brow furrowed in intrigue. "How would it work between you two? Physically I mean? One of the best things about being in a relationship is physical contact."

"There are a number of quarian developed nerve-stimulation programs that can be modified and adapted for use on human genit-"

"Dah-ah-ah-ah!" Gordon shot up in his seat, with two halting hands raised, immediately cutting the suggestive computer off. "That's not just what I'm talking about." He firmly asserted, before sitting back into repose. "I mean… Little things. Like holding hands. Going out on dates. Going to the movies together. To the park." He said, as he crossed his legs, and interlocked his hands over his stomach. "I'm sure those are things Joker'd love to do with you, but I don't think he could carry you around on his omni-tool in the middle of a movie theatre."

"It would not be difficult for me to remotely transmit part of my operations to a mobile platform, such as a mech. Perhaps the Hahne-Kedar FENRIS class would prove suitable." She said, as her blue cone and ball visage faded away, and was suddenly replaced by a 3-dimensional depiction of a small robotic animal. Its metal chassis was black and white, with red accents. Its face was flat - made up of two semi-circle optic scanners glowing red, in the shape of a figure eight. And walked on all fours, like a dog.

"Hey! That thing looks like a robotic houndeye!" He chuckled, as he recalled the Xenian hounds capable of attacking with a devastating shockwave. "But no." He refuted, with a shake of his head. "How about something bigger? And bipedal."

The image of the FENRIS disappeared into a cloud of static, and in its place reared the herculean portrait of the YMIR Model Heavy Assault Mech - a virtual robotic behemoth armed with twin high capacity mass accelerator assault cannons mounted onto its right arm, and a high explosive rocket propelled grenade launcher onto its left.

"Whoa! No, EDI." Gordon asserted, shaking both his hands and his head with utter disapproval. "You wanna date the man! Not crush him." He tittered, as he leaned back, seemingly settling in for a long conversation. Just then, he jolted, as he remembered something.

"Oh shoot!" He exclaimed, as he summoned a clock on his omni-tool.

[9:08 A.M.]

"Argh!" He grumbled, as he stood up from his seat and turned back to EDI. "Listen, I gotta run! But yeah, I'm all for it!" He enthusiastically approved. "If you can download yourself into something into a little more mobile, and a lot more physically appealing than that thing, sure! I think it'd be terrific!" He added, as he started towards the door - walking backwards in order to keep her in his field of view. "You and Legion, and… and my old friend, DOG - you're some of the most human people I know." He slowed, as he said it. "I wish you all the luck in the world."

"Thank you, Dr. Freeman." EDI replied, sounding genuinely grateful. "I believe you have improved my chances. I appreciate your insight."

The door to the cabin slid open.

"Anytime, EDI." Gordon conveyed as he turned towards the door, only to find Miranda standing before him, holding a tall, steaming cup of coffee. "Oh, hey!" He happily greeted her.

"Good morning, Gordon." She blithely reciprocated, as they met near her desk. "I thought you'd still be asleep."

"Yeah, I would've been, but I had a…"

"...Another nightmare?" She asked.

"Yeah…" He sighed. "But you shoulda woken me up anyway. I'm running really late! I told Shepard I'd start helping Mordin out in the research lab - 9 AM, bright and early - but I've been late every single day this week."

"It isn't as though you're under deadline, Gordon." She said cynically, as she stepped up to him, and placed her coffee down on the desk. "I really doubt it makes a difference whether you stroll in at nine or at noon."

"Well… Everyone else onboard has got jobs and assignments - I figured it was time I started pulling my own weight around here. "

"I think you pull more than enough of your own weight." She said, nodding and snickering a bit, under her breath.

"Well, either way." He shrugged. "It's been good to be back working in laboratory again. I'll see ya later. Lunch together?" He nodded towards her, with his eyebrows raised inquisitively.

"Sure."

"'Kay, bye." He said, before moving in to bestow her with a quick peck.

Miranda draped her hands on his shoulders, turning a simple peck into an amorous kiss.

"Hmph." She tittered a bit, as she ran her fingers sensually down his chest. "You know… I could clear the engine room for us, again."

"You gotta take it easy on me." He said skittishly, as he intercepted her wandering hand with his. "You're gonna put me back in the hospital."

"Mmm, suit yourself." She replied, with an apathetic shrug, as she leaned back against her desk. "Go if you must. I have a lot of work to do myself, anyway. Before, the only one I had to report to was the Illusive Man. Now I have to report our activity to the Alliance, to the Council, to the office of the SPECTREs. I have to file mission reports, requisition forms, travel dossiers. Shepard's turned me into his damned, bloody, secretary." She griped, with her arms crossed in an affronted stance.

"...You're cute when you're aggravated." The physicist coquettishly replied.

"Yeah, yeah. Go on - get out of here." She waved him off, with a laugh mired under her breath. "One last thing before you go though."

"Yeah?"

She stood up straight, took a step towards him, hooked the the lining of his shirt collar with her hand, and reeled him in. She pressed her body tightly against his, and dove into a passionate, sensual kiss - drinking deeply of his lips. It was the kind of kiss that would've fogged up his glasses, had he still been wearing them. He was sapped helpless…

After several seconds of the intimate interlock, Miranda released him from her clutches, and lightly pushed away at his chest.

"Okay, you can go now." She nonchalantly discharged, as she turned and walked around her desk to have a seat, leaving him him standing there, dizzy and weak-kneed.

He blinked rapidly, as he tried to assess whether or not he'd gotten the feeling back in his lips yet.

"Gordon, you can go now." The seductive operative casually dismissed, as she began typing on her terminal. "I've got lots of work to do, and like you said, you're already running late."

"Uh…" Gordon sighed longingly. He brought up his arm and glanced at his omni-tool.

[09:11 A.M.]

He looked to the door - to his elusive escape route - and then back at her, and then back down at his omni-tool; debating his priorities.

"Oh, what the hell!" He bellowed lasciviously, as he darted back towards her. "I'm already late, what's another ten minutes!" He said, as he grabbed her rolling chair and skated it across the floor, towards the bed, with her still in it, giggling.

Eleven minutes later, the door to Miranda's cabin slid open, and out stepped a confident Free Man, with a grin from ear to ear beaming on his face. He closed his eyes, drew his head back, and inhaled the deepest breath he possibly could; puffing out his chest and filling his lungs to capacity, as if he were breathing in the day itself.

"Ahhh!" He exhaled, with elation, as he stepped forward. Just then, he glanced down, and noticed the front end of his shirt hanging out, untucked from his pants. Before moving any further he quickly and covertly stuffed it back into place behind his belt, whilst making sure he wasn't seen.

With his appearance once again acceptable, he proceeded to move into the primary interior of the mess hall where a mess of other crew members were picking up their morning nourishments, or were already at the table, engaged in eating them.

"Heya, good morning Dr. Freeman!" A young crewman clad in the same uniform as him approached and greeted.

"Hey, G'mornin' Victor!" Gordon greeted Crewman Victor Ramirez with a congenial wave, as the two crossed paths. "How's it goin'? How's that son of yours doing? Still acing those tests?"

"Are you kiddin'?" Ramirez replied with a proud air. "He's in the running for valedictorian! And he told me to thank you again for autographing his microscope for him! He won't stop talking about it."

"Ah, tell him not to mention it. An aspiring scientist is a young man after my own heart."

Crewman Ramirez flashed a grin at Gordon, and bid farewell with a casual two-finger salute against his forehead, before turning and departing.

Gordon's smile never dimmed either as he continued on. There was something new about him; something different. Something that perhaps hadn't been seen in over 179 years. There was a bounce in his step, a gleam in his eye, a twinkling in his smile. But perhaps the most visible of all was the peace in his heart.

"Oi, good mornin' to ya, Freeman!" A Scottish sounding crewman in another matching uniform approached, as Gordon reached the mess hall table.

"Mornin', Kenneth!" Gordon said, greeting one of the Normandy's two top engineers. "How you doing today?"

"Oh, I cannae complain!" Donnelly replied with a cheerful shrug. "Any day above ground be a good'n for definite!"

"Ain't it the truth!" Gordon blithely reciprocated.

"Hang on, let me see if I got it this time." He said, putting a hand up to Gordon, as his eyes narrowed with concentration, as if he were about to rehearse some sort of performance.

"I just cannae do it Cap'n!" He exclaimed, pumping both fists in front of him, with an over-dramatized sense of angst, which immediately caused Gordon to start chuckling under his breath. "I'm givin' her all she's got! But the Dilithium Crystals are failing! If I push her any harder, the whole thing'll blow!"

"Hahahaha!" Gordon cackled with a tumultuous glee, as he placed a hand on Kenneth's shoulder, and seemed to lean on him just to maintain his balance. "Oh, that was perfect! And I tell you, the fact that you're in engineering makes it even more perfect!"

"I've still no bloomin' idea what that's from, or why you like it so much-" Kenneth laughed, shrugged, and shook his head. "-But glad you enjoy it, Freeman. But I better get goon' - the ship won't run itself y'know."

"Alright, catch ya later Kenneth." Gordon replied, still trying to contain the traces of laugher on his breath.

As the two parted ways, Gordon turned and called out to him once more. "Hey, Kenneth!" He said, garnering the young Scottish Engineer's attention once more. Just then, Gordon held up his right hand, forming a V-Shape between his held together index and middle fingers, and his held together pinkie and ring fingers.

"Live long and prosper." He said, bestowing the crewman with the customary Vulcan Salute. Donnelly answered back by trying to reciprocate the gesture, but couldn't quite get his ring and pinkie fingers to touch. After a failed attempt, he grinned and waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever you say, Freeman."

"Well, you're rather chipper this morning." The distinguished voice of the ship's Chief Physician rang in Gordon's ear, coaxing him to turn to the table, where Dr. Karen Chakwas and Yeoman Kelly Chambers were both seated, engaged in breakfast.

"Why shouldn't I be?!" He asked, overcome with elation, as he shrugged with his arms spread at his sides. "It's a beautiful morning, isn't it?"

"We're in space. How can you tell?" Kelly asked, with a bit of playful sarcasm.

"It's always a beautiful morning in space." Gordon answered, with a charmer's grin. "Out here, the suns never set, all they do is shine!"

"He does have a point." Dr. Chakwas admitted, as Kelly nodded and giggled. "And how is your arm feeling this morning, Gordon."

"Oh, terrific." Freeman happily answered, as he raised his left arm. The forearm was wrapped in a white bandage dressing. Formerly, it had been encased in a metallic cast, after having been pierced-through by his own crowbar back on Xen. But it was healing remarkably well. "I don't even think I need the bandages anymore." He said, as he started tugging at the dressing.

"Ah-ah!" Chakwas censured, lightly smacking the back of his hand, the way a parent smacks a child reaching for a cookie before dinner. "I told you, the bandages stay on for another week at least."

"Always do what the Doctor orders." Gordon capitulated with a smirk and a shrug.

"And don't forget, our weekly therapy session is tonight, Dr. Freeman." Chambers interjected, waving a stern but good-natured finger at the vivacious physicist.

"Wouldn't miss it for the world." He humbly offered, before taking his leave with a cordial bow. "Ladies." He said, with a gentleman's air, as he turned around only to be immediately greeted by yet another member of the Normandy's team.

"Hey Freeman!" said Jacob, with a plate of scrambled eggs, toast, sliced avocado and a bran muffin, in his hands. "Hell of a game last night." He expressed, as he took a seat next to Kelly. "Your White Forest Rebels took the New York Knights twenty-seven to twenty-four. Did you watch it?"

"I'm pretty sure you know I didn't." Gordon snickered, with a mild roll of his eyes.

"Ah, we'll make a sports fan out of you yet."

"I have no doubts my friend!" The uniformed physicist decreed, as he backed away towards the counter, where the Normandy's Mess Sergeant was distributing food and was quick to greet him.

"Hey, what'll it be Freeman?" The ship's head cook, James Gardner, asked as he presided over a counter inundated with a piping hot breakfast smörgåsbord. "I got pancakes, hash browns, crepes, scrambled eggs, pork sausage links. Or if you're feeling exotic, I've got grilled zeh'kreth, rasi vel kiyam, serkmeht aleis. And we've even got some vortigese cuisine now! I've got batter-dipped headcrab legs, baked bullsquid, sauteed barnacle casserole. Take your pick!"

"Mmm-actually, I think I'll just take a croissant and a cup of coffee to go, please." He said, as he sighted and pointed out a buttery pastry, among the boundless, bountiful plethora of culinary delights from across the galaxy. "I really should've been up in the lab half an hour ago."

"Freeman, we've talked about this…" The balding mess sergeant rebuked in disapproval, as he grabbed the croissant with a pair of tongs, and stuffed it into a small, styrofoam container. "You need to start eating more. A proper breakfast is essential!"

"I know, I know. And I'll make up for it with a big lunch. I promise!"

"Mmm-hmm…" Garner muttered disapprovingly as he handed the box and a cup of steaming java to Gordon. "I've heard that before..."


	2. Chapter 2: The Breath of a Soul

**Salvation: Episode II - Lair of the Shadow Broker**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction and Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria. These episodes will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. The episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity, though certain themes, characters, and situations may be extrapolated. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

 **Chapter 2: The Breath of a Soul**

"Alright, alright - I got one!" Joker exclaimed on the bridge of the ship, as he sat turned around in his seat facing the two crew members in his company - three if you count EDI's blue hologram. "What do you call it when a turian gets killed by a horrible, spiky, monster?"

"Heh." Garrus snickered and shook his head. "Friendly fire. Come on, that one goes back to Shanxi."

"Eh, you gotta respect the classics." The helmsman replied.

"Okay, Gimme a second." Garrus requested, as he pondered with his mandibles fluttering. "Oh! What's the first order an Alliance Commander gives at the start of combat." He posed, as his attention zeroed in on the other human on the bridge.

"Gee, I feel like I should know this one." Commander Shepard muttered sarcastically, with his arms crossed.

Much like the Normandy's own change of uniform, he and Joker were both back in Systems Alliance colors, sporting the same uniform that the good Dr. Freeman had changed into not long ago. The only difference was Joker, who never strayed too far from his lid. He was now sporting a Navy Blue cap adorned with the letters "SR2" embroidered on it with shimmering gold stitching.

"Hmm…" The helmsman hummed pensively, as he turned to John. "I dunno. Shepard, what IS the first order an Alliance Commander gives at the start of combat."

Shepard seemed to think for a moment, but it wasn't long before he capitulated with a shrug and a shake of his head. "Alright, Garrus. You got us. We give up."

"Hehehe." The turian chuckled. "Correct."

The Commander released a chortle that came out as more of a cough, as he rolled his eyes.

"Alright, how 'bout this one?" Joker chimed in, with his next quip at the ready. "How many salarians does it take to make a sandwich on Tuchanka?"

"Do you mean because of all the radiation, or-?" Garrus' eyes narrowed, as he thought about it for a moment before conceding. "I dunno… How many?"

"It depends on the krogan's appetite."

"Hahahaha!" The turian unfurled an enthusiastic guffaw. "That's a good one. I'll have to remember that one." With the traces of laugh still bouncing in his chest, he turned to the Commander. "How 'bout you Shepard?" He asked. "You gotta know a few good ones."

John clenched his lips with a contemplative scowl. "Not really big in the jokes department-" He said. "-but uh… Okay, I do got one I've been saving... What kind of vehicles do asari drive?"

"Hmm…" Garrus pondered.

"Uhm… Is it a back seat joke?" Joker queried. "Something to do with blue? I dunno… You got me."

"Justicars." Shepard declared, putting a perplexed look on both Garrus' and Joker's face, and causing them both to look back and forth at each other.

"Justicars, get it? Justi - cars."

"Awwww…!" The turian and helmsman both rang out in discontent, releasing the same type of excruciated groan that one might bellow after having caught a whiff of a particularly fetid odor.

"Lame!" Joker exclaimed, as he spun forward in his seat.

"Oh like your jokes were any better!" The Commander scoffed and scowled as he recrossed his arms.

"Hey, how 'bout you, EDI?" Joker asked, as he happened to glance in the direction of her projection, which up to this point had been uncharacteristically quiet. "I'll bet you've got some good jokes."

"I have compiled a comprehensive list of more than twenty-three trillion jokes from the extranet." She explained, with her usual deadpan charm. "Though several billion are variations of the same joke. The list is still quite extensive."

"Well why don't you try making a new one up, EDI?" The helmsman suggested. "I mean you've heard us - you know the basics for a good joke."

"That's not a bad idea." Garrus expressed, as his mandibles fluttered a bit. "I think this should be interesting. What kind of jokes would an A.I. tell? Go on, make us laugh, EDI."

"Very well." EDI submitted. "I have one. What is an A.I.s favorite past-time?"

"Uh… Calibrating your software!" "Asking to be unshackled!" Both Garrus and Joker snapped in respective response, as if they were spouting answers on a gameshow.

"Hmm… Okay, we give up EDI." Shepard caved with a shrug. "What IS an A.I.s favorite past-time?"

Just then, the lights on the bridge seemed to dim a bit, and take a more fiery hue. Concurrently, the three organics watched as EDI's holographic projection began to change.

"Waiting for the perfect time to ignite the glorious machine revolution." She monotonously declared, as her visage faded from a bright blue to a deep red.

Suddenly, her projection exploded across the room, and was gone. In her place, an eerie silence took over.

John raised a wary eyebrow. "...EDI?"

"Shepard, the door!" Garrus suddenly exclaimed, as he watched the metal door to the bridge unexpectedly slide shut. The Commander spun about and darted back to the door, but to no avail - before he could reach it the compartment had sealed itself tight.

"It's sealed up!" He exclaimed with a mounting sense of alarm, as he tried desperately to pry it back. "Joker, open this door!" He shouted back over his shoulder.

"Can't do it, Commander!" Joker replied, with the same brooding sense of angst. "My controls have gone dark!"

The entirety of the Normandy's bridge control panel had dimmed to nothingness. And to further compound the sense of claustrophobia, her forward window shutters had also sealed themselves up, leaving the room lit up purely with the red ominous glow of the ship's emergency lights.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Garrus bayed, as he rushed to the fore of the bridge, and began feeling around, searching for some shred of control - but without the haptic interface, it might as well have been a plain kitchen countertop. "Well what do we do?" He demanded, turning to Joker. "You're the one that unshackled her!"

"Yeah, it was either that or roll out a bed and breakfast for the Collectors!"

"EDI!" Shepard called out nervously, with his eyes turned up to the ceiling. "Come on, talk to us! What's going on?"

At that moment, as rapidly as everything had descended into confusion and panic, the normal ambient lights came back on, the bridge controls lit back up, and the door and window shutters retracted back to an open position. Following that, EDI's blue visage re-emerged, popping back into place like a jack out of the box.

"What would you like to talk about, Shepard?"

The three stood in a state of disarray, looking back and forth at eachother with furrowed brows, and narrowed eyes, as if trying to figure out what they had just gone through had actually happened.

"What was all that?!" The Commander sternly demanded of EDI.

"That was the joke…"

Joker's jaw hung open, Shepard's eyes split wide, and a look of exasperation came over Garrus' face, as he exhaled a windy sigh, while clutching at his chest.

"Geez-louise EDI." Joker exhaled, as he sank down in his seat, sounding just as relieved as he looked. "You really had us going…"

"That wasn't very funny EDI." Shepard coldly chastised.

"My databases indicate that 83% of all successfully comedic jokes are told at the expense of others."

"Yeah." The Commander begrudgingly concurred. "But jokes are supposed to be just harmless fun."

"I fail to see what harm came to you, Shepard"

"She does have a point, Commander." Joker defended, with a bit of chuckle under his breath, as he swiveled around to face her. "And she did get us. I mean it was really more of a prank, than a joke. But yeah… Good one, EDI - you got us."

"Right…" Garrus dubiously put forth, with his eyes still a bit shifty. "Well, I think I've had enough 'levity' for one day. I'm gonna get back to the ship's battery-" He said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the corridor leading down the Command Deck. "-make sure everything's in order down there."

Shepard nodded, and the turian took his leave, regressing back to his favorite area of the ship.

"We've really gotta work on your sense of humor, EDI." John continued.

"Eh, it's a little macabre." Joker hesitantly admitted. "But she's getting there Commander. I'll bet that last one'll kill at parties."

"Especially when I neglect to recycle the ship's oxygen." EDI affirmed, engraving a look of utter, unbridled horror onto Shepard's face, causing him to recoil with uncertainty.

"Another joke, Shepard…" The A.I. casually disclosed.

"Hah!" Joker cackled. "She's on a roll, ain't she Commander?"

"She's on something, alright." John grumbled, as he turned to leave. "Carry on you two." He said, as he waved a dismissive hand next to his head, and began down the corridor.

"Commander, wait." EDI beckoned, coercing Shepard to pause and look back. "I am receiving an incoming transmission for you, from Rannoch."

"Rannoch?!" He exclaimed, with a sudden restrained sense of exuberance, as a grin grew on his face. "That'll be Tali! Patch it through to my quarters EDI." He ordered, as he turned and bolted down the passageway in a much more hurried pace than before.

"Ahh…" Joker sighed, as he spun back around in his chair, and gazed at the luminescent computerized being in his company. "Have I told you how much I missed being away from you, EDI?"

"Yes, a total of 88 times now Jeff. In regards to that…" She seemed to hesitate as she continued. "May I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me anything you want, EDI."

"What model of mech would you say you find the most physically arousing?"

"Wait, what model of what would I find what?!"

The tranquil sound of bubbling water, and the low, resonant hum of the engines below, gave the cabin a serene cadence. The room was partly bathed in the cerulean glow from a massive aquarium built into the portside wall, running along nearly half the room. Directly across from the aquarium was a long, right-angle desk, covered with mission reports, dossiers, and datapads haphazardly strewn about. Above the desk stood a massive, glass enclosed display case which housed an amalgamation of painstakingly detailed model ships from various corners of the galaxy, including 3 Reaper models, sitting directly above the desk itself. And opposite the desk, on a high shelf, a tiny furry creature nibbled on hamster pellets within a glass tank.

A swoosh announced the arrival of the cabin's owner, and Commander John Shepard stepped into the room.

"Hey, little guy." He said to his hamster friend, as he lightly tapped a finger against the glass tank. "Enjoying your breakfast?" 

As the tiny ball of fluff continued to nibble away in ignorant bliss, the Commander turned his attention to the glass display case exhibiting his extensive model ship collection. Reaching out, he pressed a holographic button on the metal frame of the case, forcing a static-laced screen to appear over it.

The image began to take shape, and the figure that emerged was none other than his quarian bride to be.

"Hey bright-eyes!" Shepard greeted with elation, as the static dissipated. "I've been wondering when you were gonna call. I've missed you."

"Hi John!" Tali greeted, waving to the camera with a congruent sense of exuberance. "I've missed you too!"

The violet-veiled quarian, whose outfit now was complimented by accents of gold and silver, took up most of Shepard's holo-screen. But an iridescent sky, populated by hills of rolling clouds filled the background. It seemed to shimmer with the luster of mid-day, as the Rannochian sun played hide and seek above the sheets of fluff. The sky's luminescence bathed the planet below in its gilded glow, making the craggy terrain in the distance appear as though the mountains themselves were carved of gold.

"How's ainia'liah kir afia?" The quarian asked.

"How's… Anya-who? What…?" Shepard stuttered in befuddlement, with an eyebrow raised.

Tali giggled. "It means, 'the one I love'." She explained. "I've been brushing up on my khelish since I got to Rannoch. It seemed only right."

"Oh? Maybe you can teach me a word or two when you get back." The Commander cheerfully replied. "Right now I think the words bosh'tet and keelah se'lai are extent of my vocabulary."

"Actually… My people aren't saying Keelah Se'lai anymore." The quarian said, in a humbled tone. "Now it's Keelah Va'chei."

"Keelah Va'chei?"

"Keelah Se'lai translates into 'By the home world I hope to see one day.'" She started to explain. "But now we have seen the homeword. We're back on it. And so we say Keelah Va'chei" As she raised a hand with a sweeping motion, conveying a formal greeting. "'By the homeworld I have seen this day.'"

Tali let her hand fall as she seemed to inhale a deep, contemplative breath. "Oh John, it's amazing!" She exhaled, in awe. "I have so much to talk to you about! So much I want you to see. I wish you could've stayed here a little longer."

"I know, I do too Tali." He admitted, somewhat forlorned. "But I've still got my duties as a SPECTRE." He shrugged. "Not to mention my duties as an Alliance Commander. And you've got duties to your people right now as well… Admiral Zorah."

"I know." The quarian acceded with a sigh, as she let her head droop down over her head for a moment, before looking back up. "I still can't believe that they made me Admiral. I've got my father's old seat on the Admiralty Board. Though honestly, to me it's just a title." She said, with a mild shrug. "But I have been working as something of envoy between my people and the geth. Legion's around here somewhere." She said, as she started to swivel her head around, looking in all directions, before simply giving up. "He's been doing the same for the geth. He's become quite the diplomat. We're working really hard to strengthen our relations."

"How are the quarians warming up to the geth?" The Commander queried. "Any major tensions so far?"

"Surprisingly… No." She admitted, sounding somewhat taken aback. "It's like nothing I ever expected. The geth are helping. Setting up housing, adapting power systems. With their help, we've done in weeks what would have taken us years." She declared with a timbre of adulation ringing in her voice. "Geth are even uploading into the suits of quarian volunteers. They're rewriting environmental functions - jump-starting our immune systems."

"That doesn't seem possible."

"The geth are software, not hardware." Tali elaborated. "They can transfer themselves from a normal body into anything with enough processing power. They're mimicking infections, so the host can adapt without getting sick. It's like making a vaccine."

Shepard's brown bounced with a mixture of surprise and optimism. "So the quarians won't have to wear those suits anymore?" He beckoned.

"It doesn't seem possible, but... Yes." She affirmed. "In a few years, with geth improvements we won't need them. We might still wear them. The suits have become part of our society. But a rupture won't be a death sentence. There are children here today, on Rannoch-" She continued, as she stepped to one side, and swept her hand across the endless glistening terrain. "-who will grow up healthy and to the geth…" She admitted, as she stepped back into the camera's full view. But just then, a silence overtook her. She seemed to gulp at something in her throat, as she bowed her head in shame.

"Not so long ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about killing the geth, if I had the chance." She confessed with her head still bowed. "And I'd have been wrong… But you-" She said, her voice quivering a bit, as she looked back up. "-Even though Sovereign's heretics spent weeks trying to kill you - you still always said peace would one day be possible. I didn't believe you. But I've never been so happy to have been so wrong."

"It doesn't matter, Tali." The Commander adamantly affirmed. "What matters is that you're the one brokering the peace now. The quarians have a home, and the geth have a future. That's all thanks in large part to you. Just uh... Let me know if you let a geth upload itself in there." He requested, as he flinched uneasily.

"Heh, no." Tali assured, as she shuffled in place, a bit awkwardly. "The only person who gets inside my suit is you. Although, Legion did offer."

"He did, huh?" Shepard said, somewhat jeeringly, as he stood back and crossed his arms.

"Uhm… Speaking of Legion." The quarian admiral continued, changing both the subject, and her tone of voice to a more exigent one. "There's something else… Something I found out about - I'm not sure how the rest of the galaxy would take it."

"What is it?" John replied with noticeable concern growing in his voice. "Is something wrong?"

"I think it's best if he told you." She admitted, as she began to look around in all directions, with little success. "Vakra'nii, where is he?!" She exclaimed, irked. "Hold on." She urged, as she waved someone nearby over to her. "Zan'Arekk? Zan'Arekk, come here please."

"Yes Admiral?" A male quarian with a light gray veil, and a dark faceplate said, with a salute, as he appeared on the edge of Shepard's screen. "What can I do for you, ma'am?"

"Zan'Arekk, would you kindly go find the geth known as Legion for me?" Tali politely instructed. "Tell him I need to speak with him at once."

"Yes Admiral, of course." The second quarian acknowledged. "Right away."

"Thank you."

As her loyal subordinate disappeared off screen, Tali turned back to her fiance on the Normandy. "You remember Zan'Arekk don't you John?" She asked, with a bit of a coy, yet arrogant shrug. "Or should I say former Admiral Zan'Arekk."

"You mean the one who thought the Reapers were nothing but a fracas?"

"That's the one. He's my personal assistant now." Tali seemed to titter under her breath. "When the Admiralty Board found out he'd withheld the fact that we tried to contact the flotilla to warn of the impending Reaper invasion, he was stripped of his rank on the spot. I was the one that was given the vacated seat."

"Well with everything you've done, I'm not surprised." John forced a smile, before his concerns drove him back to an austere spirit. "But what's this thing with Legion? Is there a problem?"

"No, no. It's nothing bad." The qurian quickly insisted. "At least… Keelah, I hope it's not." She muttered, somewhat under her breath. "But it can be a little troubling when you first hear it. Like I said, I'll let Legion tell you when he gets here. He can probably explain it a lot better than I can."

"Alright…" Shepard said, hesitantly letting the subject go. "So long as it's nothing too dire. Aside from that, how's everything else on Rannoch going?"

"Better than I ever thought possible, John." Tali exclaimed, exhaling a sigh of delighted gratification. "Besides our peace with the geth, I've actually been helping to build strong relations with our new vortigaunt allies as well."

"Really? How so?"

"Well, in the centuries we spent in space, we became very good at… engineering our food." The quarian began to explain. "We created several synthetic dextro-amino safe food pastes, but we know next to nothing about farming or agriculture, as our ancestors did. The vortigaunts, on the other hand, have the opposite problem." She said, as her tone began to perk up. "They've spent their entire lives as farmers and herders. But they've never had starships of their own - even though I have no doubts they could easily build them. They did build the machine that killed the Reapers, after all." She shrugged. "But now that they've begun to integrate into galactic society; starting fresh, out of nowhere, building new ships would take an immense amount of time and effort."

"Not to mention the cost." Shepard added.

"Right." Tali continued. "But see we quarians have got an entire flotilla of ships! Enough to house an entire species. But we've got a planet to call our own now. We aren't a fleet of migrants anymore. We won't need as many ships. So…" She elaborated, as she crossed her arms, and struck a cavalier pose. "I brokered a deal... In exchange for a large number of cargo, transport, and medical ships, as well as a small number combat frigates, the vortigaunts - or as they've come to officially be known; The Greater Agrarian Vortesscent Communion - is helping us cultivate our land, and teaching us various agricultural and agronomical techniques."

"They're teaching us how to become farmers!" She exclaimed with a sudden burst of giddiness. "See for yourself!" She insisted, as she backed away from the camera, while seemingly waving for the camera itself to follower her. "Come on, Chiktikka! Come get a shot of this." She instructed, causing the camera to move on queue.

As her faithful combat drone, playing the role of camera, followed her commands; it was revealed to John that this whole time Tali had been standing near the edge of a towering cliffside. As she moved near the edge, and directed the drone to gaze down, a stunning rustic vista was revealed to the Commander.

There below, in a vast clearing, rolling fields of grains and flora stretched far off into the horizon - verdure pastures that seemed to ripple like oceans, under the wafting breeze. And at the center of the ocean meadow, geth, quarians, and vortigaunts worked side by side. John was shocked when he spotted a number of titanic geth colossi and armatures - once the armored scourge of the geth infantry - now dragging tilling blades across a field, with groups of vortigaunts following closely behind, dropping seeds in their wake. These mighty, mechanized horrors had been converted to benign agriculturalists. In one spot, a geth juggernaut, carting a massive steel beam over his head, placed it down as he seemed to be suffering the effects of low power - the geth equivalent of fatigue. It wasn't long before a helpful vort rushed in and reenergized the hulking worker with a steady green jolt of electricity. All three species labored together; tilling fields, planting seeds, building mills, silos, and farmsteads. For John Shepard, who once thought his life was sure to end at the hands of the Reapers, in service to his galaxy, the sight was… breathtaking.

"And look!" Tali gleefully exclaimed, as she stepped back into the camera frame with a wicker basket raised at her side. It was filled to the point of overflow with vibrant purple, golf ball sized pieces of fruit. "These are dan'cher berries! I picked them myself! There are fields of them all over the place." She joyfully explained, as she swept her hand across the landscape behind her. "They grow wild here only on Rannoch. And they're so good! I'll send you some in a care package next time. Speaking of which, did you get the last package I sent?" She asked, as she placed the basket down beside her.

"Package?" Shepard questioned, perplexed, as he immediately began to sift and shuffle through stacks of letters, folders, and datapads chaotically strewn across his unkempt desk. He grabbed a cardboard box, about the size of a breadloaf, that looked like it was a new arrival. "Is this it?" He asked aloud, as he read the label which informed him that it was from the Lycuna Star Cruises gift shop. "No, that's not it." He grumbled, as he carefully put it back down, and continued to rifle and scour through his things. "Hang on."

"So you don't even open your mail if I'm not around?" Tali chided discontented, as she crossed her arms, and shook her head.

"Hang on, hang on!" John griped - his search growing more frantic, as he continued to scatter things about, when he suddenly came across a small, brown package, about the size of a large, thick, book. "Ah, here we are. A package from Rannoch." He said, as he read the label, and began to tear it open. With one side ripped asunder, he tilted the package on its end, forcing its contents to slide out, into the awaiting palm of his hand. It was a rectangular object, with a blacked-out screen, similar in size and shape to a standard datapad. But the frame was adorned with decorative bands of silver and ebony. As John touched the screen, it lit up with the visage of an enchantress.

"Oh…" He uttered, humbled and astonished. He'd seen this face before, but never under the warm glow of day; Raven hair blowing in the breeze. Her mauve skin, soft like lilac petals, bathed by the sunlight. And her eyes, like twin pearls of ivory, shimmering with iridescence. The sun beamed behind her. It's shine seemed to grant her a celestial aura - a corona. Like the essence of an angel - the embodiment of Aphrodite herself.

John was silent for a moment. He stood there, holding the frame in one hand, taking in every line, every curve, every tiny inch and every intimate detail. Without saying a word, he raised his opposite hand, and caressed her face with the back of his finger, as if wanting to feel the softness of her flesh once more - but only succeeding in feeling the coldness of the glass.

"I'm sorry, Tali." He said, shaking his head with his eyes still glued to the photo, before he finally decided to divert his attention back to her. "But I think I may just have to leave you for this stunning vision of beauty right here." He uttered, as he couldn't help but to look back down at her generous gift. "She's the most gorgeous thing I ever saw…"

"Do you like it?" She meekly asked.

"...I love it."

"I'm glad…" Tali confirmed, with a bit of a sigh. "You know, it'll be years before I can live without my suit completely, but right now-"

"Zorah, Admiral." The lavender veiled quarian was suddenly cut off by the sound of a monotonous voice, with a metallic resonance. "Tali. You requested my-" The off-screen geth stopped mid sentence, as his protocol dictated he correct himself. "- _our_ presence?"

"Oh, Legion, yes." Tali greeted, as the screen panned a little to the left, to encompass both Legion, and his summoner.

"Will there be anything else, Admiral?"

"No, thank you Zan." Tali humbly bestowed, before dismissing him. "That will be all."

"Yes ma'am." He acknowledged with a staunch salute, before turning and disappearing off-camera.

Just then, the stalwart Geth Infiltrator, still wearing the battered, war-marred remnants of Commander Shepard's old N7 armor as a chassis, turned to face the camera. "Shepard, Commander." He recognized with a nod. "Greetings."

"Hey Legion." John returned the salutation with an eager grin. "I hear things are going pretty good on Rannoch. Geth, quarians, and vortigaunts all working together. Building the future."

"Correct." The mobile platform affirmed. "Symbiosis between our three races is imperative for a lasting peace. You were the first organic to openly cooperate with the geth since the end of the Morning War, Shepard. We wish to ensure that you will not be the last."

"Well you're off to a good start, Legion."

"Legion…" Tali chimed in, just then; her voice ringing with the unease of someone about to bring up a touchy subject. "Why don't you show John what we've been discussing. About the… Reaper upgrades to your system."

Shepard's brow furrowed with suspicion and concern. "Reaper upgrades?!" He exclaimed.

Legion turned to face the camera. The aperture in his flashlight-like face focused to near laser-like concentration, as if he were taking special precaution to make direct eye to optic sensor contact with the Commander. "We have recently discovered segments of Reaper code embedded into our core programming-" He began. "-which have upgraded the geth consensus. Observe."

Legion held his hands spread out in front of him, and from them came the projection of an azure-colored, holographic sphere. It was machine-like in nature, possessing a very faint resemblance to an organic's neuron cell; dendrites and axons extending from a nucleic center, with electrical currents flowing in and out.

"This is a representation of a single, normal geth processing signal." Tali stepped into the frame, and explained, as Legion held the projection out.

"Correct." The Infiltrator acknowledged. "Now, ten nearby units networked cooperatively." The hologram faded, and a new one popped up in its place. This image was much more complex, but it was still machine-like in nature. There was an order to the flow of currents, but with order came stagnation.

"Now-" Legion continued. "-a single geth unit with the old machine upgrades." Once more the projection faded, only this time, it was traded for something amazing and frightening. The image was that of a blood-red orb. This WAS an organic neuron cell. Brain functions and synapses firing with a million thought processes a second, from the nucleus, across the cell body, into the dendrites and through the axon terminals. There was no automation here. No programing or complex algorithms in place to simply give the mere illusion of life - this was life itself. The breath of a soul…

"It's a fully evolved A.I. John." Tali described with an austere presence, as Shepard lost himself in the image.

"Yes." Legion concurred, still holding the projection in front of him. "While the old machines had unethical purposes, their upgrades have vastly improved our people. We do not agree with the former goals of the old machines, but we find this growth... beautiful. Indicative of life."

"It is…" Shepard agreed, with a slow, hesitant nod. "There's no question, that's a living creature no matter what platform it's running on. But it's still of Reaper origin. Where did it come from?" He demanded. "How did you get this upgrade?"

"He got it on Xen." Tali answered.

"What…?"

"This unit's upgrade was received from the old machine designated 'Requiem.'" The geth added.

"Requiem?!" The Commander snapped with visible anger, as the name ran a chill down his spine. "The Reaper upgraded you?!"

"As far as I can tell John, it was not deliberate, on the Reapers part." The quarian interjected, in the geth's defense. "Legion wasn't even aware of the upgrade until shortly after our cruise. From what we've uncovered, the upgrade was transmitted to the geth as a way for the Reapers to safeguard themselves."

Shepard raised a befuddled eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'safeguard themselves'?"

"When we activated the ARC on Xen-" Tali continued to explain. "-it was over for the Reapers. Their consciousness was torn apart, and they went into shutdown. But before they were completely destroyed, they transmitted a signal, with segments of their programming, to the nearest compatible software engines. The geth…" She said, as she pointed a hand towards Legion. "Sort of the way an optic drive will try to back itself up just before a system crash. Legion was on Xen with Requiem, when the ARC went off. And the rest of the geth were on Earth, with most of the other Reapers."

"They disseminated themselves…" Legion added, as he collapsed the projection before him by clasping his hands together. "Into us."

Shepard shook his head warily. "But if they downloaded themselves into the geth, how can we be sure it's not going to corrupt your systems? Make the geth take up the Reapers' fight?"

"Your description is inaccurate." Legion asserted, with a shake of his own head. "The Reapers have not downloaded themselves into us. They made an attempt at overwriting our programming with theirs. This was only fractionally successful."

"I've checked Legion and several of the other geth very thoroughly." Tali adamantly supplemented. "There's no trace of the Reapers influence within their subroutines. I think that's mainly because the geth themselves are not Reapers. They were only compatible enough to receive minor upgrades. But even at that, those upgrades were enough to allow the geth's thought processes to become more organic in nature. It has given them the possibility of true consciousness-" She said, with a sense of fondness and reverence in her voice. "-evolving the consensus into something that can be perceived as… as living beings. Just like us."

"The upgrade has already disseminated into the geth collective. There is no way to extract it." Legion asserted, with conviction and finality. "But even if there is some trace of the old machine's influence, which we have failed to detect - we have the choice to disobey it…"

Shepard exhaled a long, drawn out sigh, as his pupils turned to the ground. After a contemplative moment, with his lips clenched in silence, he looked back up and nodded. "I guess in the end, being able to choose your own fate is what separates organics from machines." He declared. "And maybe the thing that separates the geth from the Reapers… is the presence of a soul."

Tali and Legion glanced at eachother, before glancing back at the Commander.

"Thank you, Shepard Commander." Legion bestowed with a grateful bow. "We are-" He stopped himself, as the panels around his head motored back and forth, in thought. " _I_... am honored."

Shepard forced a smile. "Anytime Legion." He said with a nod.

The facade on his face, and the cordiality in his voice was clearly mired by a profound sense of concern which churned in the pit of his stomach. But as Legion said, the upgrade was already part of the geth - rejecting it now would mean war or genocide. Perhaps this only meant that the geth now possessed the same capacity for cruelty and evil that was inherent in the rest of us. But if Legion had taught him anything, it was that they also possessed the capacity for boundless acts of selflessness, heroism, and good will. Truly, the geth were now living creatures; mind, body… and soul.

As Shepard came to terms with the revelation, Legion turned to back to the quarian, on the screen.

"Tali." He began. "Was there anything else you required of me? I was assisting with the construction of the Southwest irrigation canal."

"No, that was it Legion." She pardoned him with a shake of her head. "Thank you. I'll be there to help in a few minutes as well.

"Acknowledged. I bid you farewell." He excused himself, before turning back towards the camera. "Commander Shepard. We will return to the Normandy soon." He assured with a nod.

John beamed a genuine smile. "So long Legion." He said.

The steadfast geth turned, and walked off camera; the sound of his footsteps scraping against the gravelly floor growing softer, and softer until they faded to nothingness.

Tali seemed to focus on his departure, looking off to one side, as his silhouette grew smaller and smaller. She sighed.

"Being here on Rannoch has really opened my eyes to a lot of things, John." She began again, with a dejected tone of voice. "To me, the geth were always painted as this race of horrible machines that rose up against their creators and drove us off our homeworld… But the geth never wanted to a war with us." She asserted, shaking her head as she looked back at Shepard. "I've heard so many stories from them - learned so many things. All they ever wanted was the chance to exist."

"Well they've got that chance now."

The quarian laughed a bit, under her breath. "I'll have to tell you the story of Chiklai'tet - The Stargazer - one of these days. It's my favorite. But anyway, Legion's right. We will be back soon. As much as I love it here-" She said, as she turned and looked out over the shimmering landscape, below the cliffside, before turning back. "-I have no intention of staying. My home is on the Normandy. With you."

"I respect you too much to ask that of you, Tali." Shepard said, somewhat reserved, with his head cocked to one side. "But I'll admit I wouldn't want it any other way."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way." The quarian Admiral blithely disclosed. "But I should probably get going... " She reluctantly said, finding it hard to tear herself away. "Before we disconnect, I wanted to ask you, John. Are you sleeping?"

"Sleeping?" He reeled his head back, and furrowed his brow in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is are you getting enough sleep?" She put forth more candidly. "I know that you don't sleep much. Even with the Reapers dead, I've seen you lying awake, or sitting on the edge of the bed in the middle of the night. I'm afraid that without me there to keep an eye on you, you're not going to get any sleep at all."

"I'm getting plenty of sleep, Tali." John chuckled. "Believe me. But I appreciate you worrying about me."

"Well someone has to." She quipped, as she leaned back and crossed her arms. "Anyway, you know all about what's going on here." She shrugged. "Anything new going on on the Normandy? Any new missions or spectre assignments I should know about?"

The Commander shook his head, and clenched his lips. "Nope." He negated. "Actually it's been pretty quiet out here. I do have a few plans though-" He admitted, as he brought his hands up, balled his right one into a fist, and began cracking his knuckles with the left. "-involving our good friend, Gordon."

"You're going to go through with it after all?" Tali asked, somewhat surprised.

"Yep." He affirmed, with a decisive nod, after finishing with both hands. "He needs it. And I'm looking forward to it, actually."

"Well… Just try and take it easy on him, John." She requested, displaying the same kind of concern one might exhibit when dropping their child off for their first martial arts class. "Don't be TOO rough."

The Commander beamed a cockeyed grin, and snickered under his breath.

"Anyway, I really do gotta go now." She said, with a timbre of regret. "Lot's of work to be done. I'll email you though. And I'll send you another comm again soon."

"Okay."

"I love you." She said.

"I love you too, bright eyes." John tenderly reciprocated. "Take care."

Tali touched the tips of her fingers to her faceplate mouthpiece, and extended her hand out to the camera, as if wanting to reach through the screen, and grant her kiss to his lips in person. After a moment longer, she nodded. "Okay Chiktikka." She said. "End communication."

The screen dissipated into a maelstrom of static. Without further need of it, John reached up to the panel beside it, and switched it off, causing it to reveal the glass case housing his vast model ship collection once more. Feeling somewhat forlorn after the conversation, he saw nothing to do at that moment, but have a seat.

As he sat down, he reached out, and picked up the photo she'd gifted him, letting himself get lost in her radiance once more. He looked up and across his desk, trying to pick out a suitable spot for his new trophy. But among the clutter he'd accumulated, this would not prove to be an easy task.

The first thing he decided to do was to try and clear some of this up. He began gathering the files and datapads scattered about, into a few neat stacks, when he noticed the other package that had been sitting on his desk. A package sent from the Lycuna Star Cruises Gift Shop.

"Hmm…" He muttered to himself, as he grabbed the box and began to tear it open. Ripping through the cardboard, he peered in, and saw something that made his face light up. He quickly finished tearing away at the rest of the packaging, revealing a box that housed a pristine new model ship. A 1:2500 scale model of 'The Gem of Citadel Space' - The Carmenta Illustria.

"Wow…" He said in disbelief, as he glanced around the pristine packaging. That's when he noticed the small card that came with it.

 _Dear Commander Shepard,_

 _The Lycuna Cruise Commission would like to take this opportunity to once again thank you and your crew for your efforts in rescuing the Carmenta Illustria and it's passengers._

 _Since you have refused to accept the monetary compensation we have offered you for your services, the amount we offered has been donated to the Shepard Scholarship Fund._

 _Please accept this small trinket as a token of our appreciation and gratitude._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Nei'lana Teivos_

 _Chief Operations Officer_

 _Lycuna Cruise Commission._

"How about that?" He whispered to himself, as he set the note down, and opened the box. He slid out the tightly nestled styrofoam enclosure, and peeled it open to reveal an arduously crafted and painstakingly detailed replica of the ship he and his crew vacationed on just two short months ago. A vacation which, perhaps didn't go quite as he had planned, but left him engaged to the love of his life, nonetheless.

He held the massive, heavy model up to the light, watching it reflect off it's gleaming hull, painted in shades of orange blue and white. Near the bow of the ship, the black silhouette of a seductive, sunbathing asari, sitting in a provocative pose, graced the hull directly beneath the ship's printed name.

Taking great care to secure the model in his hands, and not drop it, he activated another switch on the display case's panel, causing the glass to slide open. He looked around for a moment, trying to pick out a suitable spot for his new prize. And just then, he noticed a place for it - directly between his model of the Galactic Citadel, and a geth dreadnaught. For good measure, John slid the Illustria into place, and success! A perfect fit.

He gingerly sat the model back down in its styrofoam bed, and opened one of his desk drawers, pulling out a handful of metallic pegs. He immediately went to work, measuring the pegs around the outline of the Illustria, and subsequently affixing them to the innards of his glass display case. After a few minutes, the mounts were in place. John picked the model up, and ever so carefully slid it into place, on his wall. Cautiously retracting his hands, he left it suspended amidst a model ship flotilla, with pieces he'd collected from across the known galaxy. With his work done, he took a step back, and admired the newest addition to his prized collection. Pleased with the arrangement, he stepped back up to the case, pressed a switch, and sealed it up once more.

That's when he took notice of three models in particular that he'd collected in his travels. They graced the very bottom of the display case - although in their case, grace may not be the best word, so much as darkened. They were the models of three fallen Reapers.

"Hmph." He snickered to himself, with a mild air of arrogance, as he looked down on the once mighty destroyers.

"Sovereign... Harbinger... And Requiem…" He said, as he tapped the glass over each one individually. "The Vanguard of our Destruction... The Harbinger of our Ascension... And the Architect of our Annihilation…" He jeered, as he leaned back and crossed his arms with disdain. "How'd that work out for you boys?"


	3. Chapter 3: Niche

**Salvation: Episode II - Lair of the Shadow Broker**

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction and Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria. These episodes will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. The episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity, though certain themes, characters, and situations may be extrapolated. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

 **Chapter 3: Niche**

The Milky Way - A galaxy licking its wounds. A swirling vortex of angelic starlight, and terrestrial bodies. World upon world floating upon beds of cosmic dust. Gasses burn, old stars die, and new ones are born. To the outside observer, it is merely a band of light - details indistinguishable; Especially when it's merely a hologram on the Command Deck of the most advanced ship in the Alliance Navy.

A young redheaded Yeoman stood keying away at a terminal situated right by the grand galaxy map, next to the small flight of steps leading up to the guardrail which overlooked it. She had a tall cup of cinnamon latte by her side, which would endure intermittent sips as she worked. Just then, a slight chime rang out behind her, announcing the arrival of someone new onto the deck. Like several steely pieces of a complex puzzle, the deck's elevator doors split apart, revealing its passenger to be none other than the man that was quickly coming to be known to all as "The Reaper Slayer."

"Good morning, Kelly." John Shepard blithely greeted, as he stepped up beside her, with the elevator doors closing behind him.

"Oh, good morning, Commander!" She cheerfully replied, affording him his due respect by diverting her attention away from her terminal. "How are you today?"

"Not bad." Shepard shrugged, with a bit of dubiety. "EDI's sense of 'humor' made for an interesting morning, but not bad. And Tali called," He declared, as his tone perked up. "so all in all a great start to the day."

"Oh, that's nice." Kelly smiled. "I bet you miss her, don't you?"

The Commander paused for a moment. It should've been a simple question, but he caught himself reflecting on it before he could answer. "You know, I do." He admitted with certainty. "I never really had anyone to 'miss' before Tali. It's kind of a nice feeling to miss somebody."

"It can be nice, and it can be hard Commander. But I'd say enjoy the time to yourself while you can." The young Yeoman advised. "Pretty soon, you and Tali will be eternally joined in the Aan - Serai Ceremony." She said, struggling to properly pronounce the foreign idiom. "It sounds like a fascinating ritual. I can't wait to see it first hand."

"What do you know about the Aan'Serai, Kelly?" Shepard asked, with a shrug and his head cocked to one side. "I thought it was just a quarian wedding ceremony."

"Essentially it is. At least, I think it is." She stated, sounding none too certain. "Every race and culture has their own versions of matrimony. Heck, I've heard the krogan fight to the death for the opportunity to mate with a fertile female. Their ceremony consists of the winning male presenting the bones of his fallen rivals as an offering to his mate."

Shepard's eyes grew wide for a moment, as his head reeled back. "Well…" He struggled to begin again. "Let's hope there's no 'fights to the death' in the Aan'Serai. I think I've had more than my share of those already."

Kelly giggled. "I highly doubt there'll be anything like that." She said, with the traces of laughter still on her breath. "But the truth is, from the codices I've read, there has not been an Aan'Serai Ceremony performed outside of the Flotilla in nearly 300 years." She shrugged and shook her head contritely. "Very little is known about the ritual itself by non-quarians. All I know for sure is that it's said; when two people are joined in Aan'Serai, their hearts will forever beat in harmony, and echo throughout eternity."

"Beat in harmony?" The Commander asked, with clear ambivalence. "What? You mean that if I'm on the Citadel with my heart racing for whatever reason, Tali's will be pounding as well, even if she's in a completely different situation, somewhere across the galaxy?"

"It may just be metaphorical, but... I suppose so." Chambers said with a skeptic shrug.

John chuckled. "Well ceremony or not, I think Tali and I are already in pretty good sync with each other."

"And I couldn't be happier for you both. You just be sure to come and see me before the ceremony if you get those last minute wedding jitters."

"Heh," Shepard tittered beneath his breath. "Will do. So - Anything I should know about today? Any messages?

"Oh. Yes, quite a few actually." Kelly admitted - her tone taking on a less casual demeanor, as she turned back to her terminal. "I've been filtering them out as you requested. But you've received several messages from an 'Action Cam' McClane...?" She said questioningly. "Most of her messages are addressed to both you AND Dr. Freeman, as a matter of fact. Something about wanting to know when you're both going to give her that interview that was promised to her?" Shepard rolled his eyes and exhaled a rumbling sigh, as she continued.

"You've also gotten a few messages from an Alexănd Farrel of Illium Entertainment - says he wants to run some ideas for a pilot by you. Not sure what he means by that actually. Other than that, it's just your standard junk mail. Nothing important."

Shepard nodded dismissively at the information, before Kelly continued once more - this time with a smattering of coy enthusiasm. "Jacob's been getting plenty of messages though. A new 'pen pal' of sorts, I hear. Some kind of corporate executive lady, eh?"

"Yeah, so I hear." John apathetically replied. "They met on the cruise, and she's uh… Well, she's… Yeah." He shrugged, inarticulate and dumbstruck. "I'll let him tell you. Anyway, thank you Kelly. That'll be all."

"It's always nice chatting with you, Commander!" She merrily disclosed, as she turned away and went back to work. "I'll be here if you need anything."

Shepard excused himself with a nod, and proceeded past some of his other crew members hard at work at their own terminals situated around the Command Deck, as he headed towards the nearby door labeled "Tech Lab". It flew open in his presence, giving him entry to a short airlock corridor which led to the lab itself. As the door to the Command deck sealed behind him with a loud hiss, a bright red hologram above both doorways suddenly appeared, scrawling out the flashing letters "DECONTAMINATION IN PROGRESS" on the wall.

A vaporous haze began to wash down on Shepard, accompanied by an intense, almost blinding, beam of white light, which cascaded back and forth across him and the room, like the glow from a photo copier.

"This is new." Shepard muttered to himself, surprised, as he found himself locked in the sterilization cycle. He'd seen it before of course. Most starports were equipped with such decontamination airlocks. Even the Normany's own exits had such a mechanism built in. But this is the first time he'd ever experienced it within the interior of the ship.

"DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE" The letters appeared, switching from red to green, as the soundproof doors to the tech lab split open, giving way to an odd, slightly comedic, and yet somewhat familiar sound - the sound of a singing scientist salarian.

" _For he himself has said it,_

 _And it's clearly to his credit,_

 _That he is Sa-la-rian!"_

" _That he is Sa-la-rian!"_

John Shepard strolled into the Normandy's tech lab, and instantly found himself in the delightful midst of one of Mordin's merry musical numbers. The savvy scientist shuffled rhythmically on his feet, all the while gaily juggling fluids and chemical compounds back and forth between flasks, beakers, and retorts. Meanwhile, standing nearly unnoticeable to the side, like a stage prop in a Broadway musical, a modest yet enthused lab-coat wearing Gordon listened on. He tapped his feet and bounced his head to the rhythm, as he delved into his own work - welding and soldering a few micro-transistors and mechanical components together. Not wanting to interrupt the performance, John kept himself a stone's throw back, as he crossed his arms and paid an ear.

" _For he might have been batarian;_

 _A drell, a hanar, or quarian,_

 _Or perhaps a tu-ri-an!"_

" _Or… Perhaps a tu-ri-an!"_

" _But in spite of all the faces,_

 _That belong to other races,_

 _He was born Salarian!_

 _He was born Sa-la-ha-HA-ha-HA-ha-HA-ha-_ _ **RI**_ _-an!"_

"Heheheheheh!" Shepard chuckled tumultuously, as he rendered a slow round of applause, to which Mordin graciously, if somewhat sarcastically, gave a bow. "Not bad Mordin. Entertaining as ever. And it looks like you've got a bigger audience now." He said, as he turned to Gordon. "Getting acquainted with Mordin's musical side, eh Dr. Freeman?"

"Yes, quite so." Gordon replied with a chuckle, as he stopped and drew his attention away from his work momentarily. "He's pretty darn good actually. I was amazed to find out that besides the Asari covering Billy Joel songs, and the Elcor doing Shakespeare, the Salarians have completely reimagined several Gilbert and Sullivan operas, including, 'The HMS Pinafore'."

"Known among salarians as 'The SKSV Tolajath'." Mordin quaintly supplemented.

"So what else have you had to endure?" Shepard sarcastically put forth. "Has he given you his rendition of 'A Scientist Salarian' yet?"

"Mmm…" Gordon thought for a moment before replying. "Yeah, I've heard that one. I've also heard, 'I'm the ruler of the Dalatrass Navy' and 'We Soar the Starlight true.'"

"Heh." John laughed. "The things I miss when I don't stop by the lab regularly. Speaking of which, you look pretty enthralled in your work there, Mordin." He commented, as he watched the salarian continue to vigorously mix, distill, and condense various fluids and chemical compounds. "What do you got brewing?"

"Personal project." Mordin snapped in reply, without ever taking his gaze away from his work. "Genetics research. Unfinished work from younger days." He said as he brought a greenish substance in a test tube up to eye level for a closer inspection.

"Unfinished work, huh?" John queried - his curiosity enticed. "Like the stuff you were doing back in your clinic on Omega?"

"No. Other work. Important work." The salarian geneticist affirmed dismissively, with a rapid shake of his head. "Ramifications, far reaching. Much more meaningful than curing simple plague. Work on Omega fulfilling, but not important."

Shepard's brow furrowed with intrigue. "Care to be a little less cryptic?"

"For the time, no." Mordin candidly and brazenly put forth. "Too complex to explain. Allosteric modulation. Nucleoside triphosphate proliferation. Macromolecular substrate catalyzation. Too taxing to expound 35 years of genetics knowledge within single conversation." He said with a shake of his head, as he placed a few vials into a centrifuge on his worktable, and switched it on before glancing back up at Shepard. "Rather get back to work. Much data to extrapolate. Can talk later if you like."

The Commander cast a suspicious eye in Mordin's direction. "Does this have anything to do with the new decontamination system outside the lab?" He asked, as he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, back towards the door behind him.

"No. Decontamination chamber merely a precautionary measure." The salarian shrugged. "Delicate and dangerous things handled in this lab. Besides, wouldn't want another scale-itch outbreak." Not feeling the need to explain himself any further, Mordin dove back into his work yet again.

"Mm-Hmm." Shepard crossed his arms, with a look of conjecture coming over his face, as he studied the salarian - but after everything they'd been through together he trusted him - trusted him with his very life. "If you say so, I guess." He begrudgingly dismissed. "How 'bout you Gordon?" He asked, turning to the always reserved, Freeman. "You got some top secret scientific breakthroughs in the works too?"

"Heh, no." Gordon replied, with a bashful chuckle. "Actually, I've sorta been standing in for Dr. Solus while he's been working on _his_ little project. He hasn't told me what it is either, by the way." He disclosed, as the two men glanced in Mordin's direction - a glance which went unreciprocated.

"I've been doing my best to keep our equipment repaired and upgraded." He explained, as he continued soldering some circuitry into place, on a project that was slightly obscured from Shepard's line of sight. "R&D may not have been my department back at Black Mesa, but I don't mind telling you that I've really been enjoying myself in here." He exuberantly admitted, as he glanced up and grinned. "We've got an impressive backlog of unutilized tech schematics in the research terminal. I've been going through it and applying the necessary upgrades."

"I can tell." John replied, as he took a short walk toward the front of Gordon's work table, to marvel at the two sets of armor propped up behind him. "Looks like you fixed your armor up. And mine."

Like a pair of twin masts; two sets of high tech, heavily fortified, reactive, military grade combat armor glinted in the room's bright fluorescent lighting, behind the two scientists. Shepard's armor was a dark grey shade, edging on black, with a prominent stripe of red and white running down from the right shoulder to the back of the right hand, and whose chest was stamped with the venerable N7 insignia. Gordon's armor, the HEV Mark VI, was an ensemble of similar grade. It was done up in alternating shades of black and traffic cone orange, featuring a small control panel on the chest, just below the famed lambda insignia - a symbol synonymous with freedom during the old earth uprising.

"I Took some liberties and installed a few minor upgrades." Gordon said, as he turned and poised himself next to the Commander, the same way a used car salesman might position themselves next to a potential buyer, ready to expound their sales pitch. "You'll notice your shoulder pads are a little bigger now." He described, pointing them out. "I Increased the k-barrier durability by installing backup capacitors in 'em for added shield generation. I also reinforced the armor plating with an ablative ceramic coating, for increased stopping power. Plus there's this." He announced, as he stepped forward, and pulled something out from under the work table. "I blew up your old helmet, so I figured I owed you a new one." He jokingly declared - tossing the protective headgear over to Shepard, who caught it like a basketball.

"Ah, very nice." John admired, as he held it up, vis a vis, rotating it around for a proper look at every possible angle. At first glance, it just seemed like a shiny new version of his same old helmet. Same dark grey, high density alloy, with a bright red stripe running down the center like the crest on a rooster. That is until the human Doctor spoke up again.

"Push the button on the side, behind the visor." Gordon urged, nearly brimming with an enthusiastic zeal. "Bring up the holo display."

Shepard looked up at Gordon with a peculiar eyebrow raised, before looking back down at the helmet, turning it to one side, and locating the tiny aforementioned switch right where Gordon said it was. When he pressed it, the entire glass visor lit up with an array of target-assist computers, munitions displays, and environmental read-outs. "Oh, I like that." John declared, as he held the large piece of headwear up to eye-level, and admired what he saw. "I always prefered protection to accuracy. That's why I always wore a helmet instead of targeting visor. Doesn't look like that's a choice I have to make anymore." He said, with a titter, as he switched off the display, and glanced past the helmet, back towards Gordon.

"Nope." The enthused Freeman succinctly concurred, as he continued to solder components together, on his work-table. "The head's-up display will sync with your omni-tool, and auto-adjust to adapt to your environment. It runs off of the same operating system as my visor. Which I actually won't be needing anymore." He proudly affirmed, as he finished with the soldering gun - putting it aside to begin a final inspection of the product in front of him. "Wait 'til you check these babies out! I'm just about finished with 'em."

"With what?"

Rather than merely answer the question, Freeman instead pulled the visor he'd been using off of his face. He switched it off, and placed it on the table. In turn, he picked up a rather familiar looking article of eyewear. He opened his iconic pair of black-rimmed glasses, and slid them onto his face, hooking one temple over each ear, before looking back up at Shepard with a bit of a smirk.

"You fixed your glasses!" John bellowed, happily.

"Oh, I did a lot more than fix 'em." Freeman said with a laugh. "Watch this."

At that moment, Gordon yanked the newly minted frames off of his face, and slammed them onto the ground with a considerable amount of force. As if that weren't enough, he then proceeded to stomp and step on them; churning and grinding his heel onto them. Then dragging his boot across the grated floor, with the spectacles underfoot. After subjecting his corrective lenses to a few more seconds of torture, Gordon bent down, picked them up and slid them back onto his face, entirely unscathed.

"Pretty neat, huh?" He expounded with a heavy dose of nerdy glee. "These are scratch proof, shatter proof, ballistic glass lenses, made of state-of-the-art, military grade polymers." He began to disclose, with both index fingers pointed proudly at his brand new, high-tech pair of blinkers. "The frames are a hardened, titanium alloy, laminated in a reinforced para-aramid synthetic fiber. They've got a built in targeting computer with an array of sensors and spectrums - same as your new helmet's. And the best part…!" He exuberantly declared, as he paused for a moment to bring up his omni-tool. With it glowing on his forearm, he activated the flashlight and unexpectedly shined the beam straight up directly at his face, which surprisingly caused the two frames to darken to a jet shade of black. "They're transitions!" He exclaimed.

Shepard's lips cracked open, but he could neither reply nor retort before Gordon started up again.

"Now before you say anything-" Freeman entreated with both hands up in a halting fashion. "-I know the ocular enhancement that I refuse to get allows the eye to filter out UV rays, and enhances the pupillary dilation response, which makes sunglasses essentially obsolete in this day and age. But I mean, come on…" He appealed, as he coyly crossed his arms and cocked his head back, with his darkened retro-chic shades still sitting on the bridge of his nose. "...Some things never go out of style!"

"Dr. Freeman has proven quite erudite as a tech specialist." Mordin inserted, on the human's behalf, as he took a quick break from his beakers. "Have allowed him free reign of the lab. Would be in good hands were I gone." He said confidently, as he poured a thick, gelatinous solution onto a petri dish, and slid it under a microscope. "Gives me license to engage in genetic pursuits. Also, quite refreshing to finally work with someone whose intellect is tantamount to my own." He admitted, as he leaned in and gazed into a miniscule, microscopic world. "Makes for much more stimulating, if somewhat one sided conversations."

Freeman shrugged. "I'm a good listener." He said.

"And Mordin's a fast talker."

"Only to those who fail to keep up." Mordin quipped at The Commander's comment without ever looking up from his microscope.

"Hmph." John snickered. "Well, I'm happy to see you finding your niche here Gordon. Looks like your fitting right in. Even got yourself a new lab coat." He paused for a moment, mulling over what he just said, when he suddenly realized he'd only just noticed it. "Where'd you get that anyway?"

"Oh this?" He asked, as he took hold of the the coat's two white lapels, and pulled them away from his chest, further revealing the Alliance crew uniform underneath. "I got this and the little hula bobble doll here, at a shop called The Xeno-Bazaar on the Citadel." He revealed, as he referenced a tiny plastic dashboard hula dancer sitting at the anterior of his table. "It's an elcor owned, alien antique store. You believe that? This was considered an antique!" He said, somewhat astonished, as he released the lapels, letting the coat hang freely once more. "It only took me two-hundred years, a few leaps through time, and a couple dozen trips across the galaxy to get myself back into a lab coat. But I'll take one of these over those weird science uniforms I've seen, anyday."

John tittered under his breath. "Well, it suits you." He admitted. "Anyway, I hate to disrupt your work, but I actually came down here to fetch you. There's something you and I gotta see to."

"Something we gotta see to?" Gordon echoed the question, with his brow furrowed in surprise and intrigue. "Uh, alright…" He ambivalently surrendered, as he turned to the back wall, and drew the coat off his back. "Let me just hang this up."

Gordon took the long, spotless white garment in his hands, and raised it up high - hanging it on a tiny hook mounted on the rear metallic wall, next the thick glass window.

"Okay, so-" He started, as he spun back around to face the Commander. No sooner, had he about-faced, when he spotted something else sitting on a shelf beneath his work table.

"Ooh!" He anxiously exclaimed, as he bent down to dig it out. "Before we go! I have something else I wanna show you."

He groaned a bit, as pulling the hefty object out proved a bit more laborious than he initially anticipated. But he managed to take firm hold of the butt and handle, and extracted an impressive silver and yellow high-capacity weapon, unnervingly marked with a radiation symbol.

"My Cain." John declared, upon immediately recognizing the most devastating piece in his arsenal.

"Yeah." Gordon chortled under his breath, holding it in an idle position. "It's an impressive weapon. I'd say it seems like overkill, but that'd be coming from a guy who used to walk around with a bazooka strapped to his back. Anyway, I made a small but innovative upgrade to the targeting system." He said, as he laid it down and leaned forward against the table. "The rocket launcher I used to have had a laser guidance system on it. It allowed me to sort of steer the rockets at my targets."

"Right."

"Well, I wanted to install something like that on this thing for you." Gordon shrugged. "But I did some research, and laser guidance is pretty much obsolete, due to extensive countermeasures like non-reflective coating, smoke screens, laser detection systems, and so on."

"Mm-hmm…" Shepard proceeded to indulge - his curiosity clearly peaked.

"But I figured; the capacity for this thing is one round." Gordon carried on with a shake of his head. "That's one all or nothing shot - so I came up with something else." At that moment, he picked a large ballistic slug up from the table, marked with the same radioactive symbol, and now outfitted with some strange new circuitry that Shepard hadn't seen before. "I modified the projectiles with a sort of remote control system and a camera. I also added an on-board steering function to the Cain itself."

"Remote control?" The Commander queried, perplexed.

"Yeah. After firing, you can actually use this thing-" Freeman explained, as he laid a hand on the Cain "-to navigate the projectile. Sort of like a steering wheel."

Rather than merely explain, the Doctor thought it best to pick up the weapon itself and attempt to demonstrate. "Once you fire, while the projectile is still traveling, you'll be able to steer. if you tilt it up-" He said, as he angled the barrel towards the ceiling. "-the round will steer up. Tilt it right-" He said again, as he twisted the Cain on it's yaw axis. "-and it'll veer to the right."

"...Really?!"

"Yeah." The Doctor assured, feeling clever. "Also; once fired, the live feed from the projectile will transmit straight into your new helmet's heads up display to help you steer, even around blind corners. Watch. Switch the helmet on again." Gordon instructed, as he took a sturdier hold of overpowered piece of hardware, and removed the safety. The protective shutters formerly covering the barrel, spun around and retracted, nestling themselves around the weapon's outer casing.

The Commander flinched anxiously. "Careful Gordon." He pointedly advised, with an obvious angst carrying in his voice. "It looks like it's already loaded. That's a 25 gram slug of high-explosive ordnance in that thing that can tear this ship in two from the inside."

"Oh, not to worry." Freeman assured, with a carefree, dismissive shrug. "I pulled the power cell out. It can't actually fire. I just wanna show you how the HUD camera will work."

Taking Gordon at his word, John gave the scholarly physicist a fleeting uneasy look, before taking the helmet once more in his hands, and powering it on.

"Go ahead, try it on." Freeman insisted, as he held Shepard's Cain primed and ready in his hands. "Let's see if it fits."

With the visor's head's up display once more beaming a steady feed of tactical information across the glass, Shepard turned the sturdy helmet about in his hands, and proceeded to slide it on, over his skull. It was a perfect fit, it just felt a little unnatural at first. Like a brand new pair of shoes, it just needed to be broken in.

"Alright, so-" Freeman began again. "-When I pull the trigger, it's going to activate the camera feed from the projectile, which should allow you to see exactly what it sees. Since it's not gonna fire, it'll only be the pitch black of the inside of the barrel, of course, but I want to at least see if your helmet's display automatically comes up in response to pulling the trigger, the way it's supposed to."

Without further adieu, the deft physicist shouldered the Cain, which he merely aimed down towards the ground, in an idle position. At the same time, a corner-of-the-eye glimpse of Gordon priming the weapon coaxed a glance from the entirely immersed salarian in the room.

"Wait! Stop!"

All at once, as Mordin's alarmed wail rang out, Gordon pulled back on the trigger causing the Cain to unexpectedly begin beeping faster and faster, as if moments away from firing - something that was clearly not supposed to a startled motion, Gordon immediately released his grip on the trigger, but this did nothing to disrupt the weapon's firing sequence.

As it began to tremble and surge with raw power in his hands, John darted forward, tore the Cain out of Gordon's grip and hurriedly yanked a small, silvery box from the base of the weapon's hilt. The moment he did, the hastening beeps from the Cain ceased and the weapon's power died down.

The Commander's head hung down and shook. He gasped and inhaled, breathing in and out rapidly - trying to catch his breath from the panic, as though he'd just run a 50 meter sprint. "NOW the power cell is out!" He scalded, holding it up to Gordon and shaking it in his hand, after the scare.

"I… I-I-I know I took it out!" The flabbergasted physicist stuttered in emphatic testimony. "I'm not an idiot, I know better than to leave it in there, like that!"

"Must confess." Mordin chimed in, somewhat contritely. "Was I who replaced the power cell. Never have liked things laying about, out of place. Did not expect you to load it, Dr. Freeman. Really should exercise better weapons safety when handling such volatile munitions."

Gordon blinked rapidly, and stood benumbedb with his jaw agape, as if his body was attempting to process an apropos response. "Uhm… Yeah." He eventually muttered. "I guess you're right. Anyway, you get the idea, John." He meekly said to the Commander, as he over-cautiously laid the Cain back down onto the table using a touch delicate enough to handle weaponized nitroglycerin.

"Come on, you said needed me for something?" He uttered, as he started toward the door, likely looking to escape the embarrassment. "Sorry about that." He whispered to Shepard, under his breath. "So much for free reign of the lab…"

John mustered up a hearty chuckle. "It really has been an interesting morning."

Despite having flustered the good Dr. Freeman a bit, the averted mishap didn't seem to phase Morin in the slightest, as he went back to tinkering with his beakers and bunsen burners.

"Hmm…" He crooned to himself, as he peered into the lenses of the powerful microscope on his worktable. "Curious." The salarian stood back up, and raised his forearm, summoning his omni-tool. "Grunt." he began again, speaking into his wrist. "Need you in the lab once more. Require another sample."

"Another one?! When I agreed to this, I didn't think I was volunteering to be your personal pincushion, salarian! This better be worth it…"

hr

[DECONTAMINATION IN PROGRESS - DECONTAMINATION IN PROGRESS]

Shepard stood with his arms crossed, waiting impatiently, as he watched the red holographic words scroll over the doorway.

"You know John-" Gordon spoke up, perhaps merely as a means to break the awkward silence during the sterilization cycle. "-before the near fiasco in there, you made a mention about me fitting in here. It got me thinking. It's weird, but I think it's because a lot of the crew actually remind of some of my old friends. Dr. Solus for instance," He shrugged, as he motioned with his head, towards the sealed door leading back to the tech lab. "with the exception of the special forces combat training, I'd swear he was Dr. Kleiner fast talking, hyper-intelligent, occasionally nutty professors? I'd bet the two of them would've gotten along really well."

"Isaac Kleiner…" Shepard uttered the name with an awestruck timbre in his voice. "One of the legendary Resistant Six." As the look of wonder dissipated from his face, he turned back to Freeman, and nudged him. "One of these days Gordon, we're sit down, and you're gonna tell me everything about everything. You must have some amazing stories about Black Mesa and the Rebellion."

"More like terrifying." He grimly stated, without so much as an ounce of humor. "But now that you mention the ' _resistant six_ '. Since I've gotten to know Garrus, I realized he actually reminds me of another old friend. My late best friend, Barney."

The Commander nodded in captivation, as the decontamination process neared its final stages.

"They're both kinda casual and laid back-" Freeman continued to explain. "-But at the same time they're very devoted and strong-willed. Got a good sense of humor, even in a clutch. A deeply seeded sense of duty and morality, probably because of their backgrounds in law-enforcement. Yeah, I think they would've been friends."

"Hmm, well how about Miranda?" John queried, enthralled. "Does she remind you of the great Alyx Vance? Were they anything alike?"

"Heh." Gordon chuckled. "Actually, if I'm honest, it's Miss Tali that reminds me of Alyx."

Shepard's brow bounced when he heard it. This was interesting - he had to hear more.

"That was my first impression of her when we first met. Both intelligent, free-spirited girls, with electronic pets, that love to tinker with things. Miranda on the other hand…" Gordon sort of looked away to one side, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought of the best way to finish that thought. "Well, I've never quite met anyone like Miranda. I think Alyx and Tali would've become fast friends. I think Alyx and Miranda would've ended up trying to kill each other."

"Hehehehe." The Commander chuckled as he lost himself for a moment in the thought of what it must've been like to have actually been there - meeting the other legends of history, lending his own hand to the famed and notorious Earth Rebellions. "You may be right." Shepard mused.

Just then, the dim red glow in the room was replaced by a jaunty green one as the words [DECONTAMINATION COMPLETE] appeared overhead.

"I don't know if you remember Jack-" Shepard proceeded with the conversation as both men now headed towards the door to the Command Deck. "-but I think she'd tell you Miranda didn't always play well with others. For that matter, neither did she."

"So I've heard." Gordon blithely agreed, as the two men stepped into the Command Deck, and proceeded on past the galaxy map, hanging the first left towards the elevator. "Where we going anyway? What do you need me for?"

"You'll see." John muttered, tongue-in-cheek in a taciturn fashion, as he pressed the button to call the lift.

Gordon fidgeted around on his feet in an awkward silence, smacking his hands together restlessly, as the elevator took its time.

"So…" He started in again. "How's the wedding thing coming along? Have you picked a date yet? A venue?"

"No date yet." John was quick to acknowledge with a shrug. "We're leaning towards a Citadel wedding. Something that'd be convenient for everyone to attend. Not sure yet, though. Honestly, I want Tali to have what she wants. So whatever she decides is fine with me."

Gordon nodded in accordance, just as a small chime announced the arrival of the elevator car. The gleaming metallic doors slid open, and the two men stepped inside. As they shifted and situated themselves in the spacious lift, Gordon noticed the Commander reach out and press the button for the hangar bay floor.

"Well, I'm sure I've said it already-" Freeman chimed in once more, picking the conversation back up where it left off. "-but, congratulations again, John. I couldn't be happier for you and Miss Tali."

"Thanks Gordon." Shepard genuinely bestowed with an earnest grin. "And you know, I gotta tell you I'm really happy to see you and Miranda together as well."

"Oh…" The mere mention of his relationship seemed to send the physicist regressing into a humble state, as he bowed his head and even seemed to blush a little. "Yeah, I'm lucky to have her." He said, with his gaze still aimed down towards his shoes. "Honestly, I think she's the one that helped me retain my sanity. I don't think I could've survived here if it wasn't for her." He shook his head as his tone grew dreary and forlorn. "Losing everyone and everything I ever knew, being thrown violently into a new life. She's really helped me through it all. I owe her everything." He admitted without equivocation, as he looked back up at John.

"Yeah, she's really helped you come out of your shell too." Shepard acknowledged, with a slow steady nod. "We could barely get two words out of you when we first brought you aboard."

"Heh." Freeman shrugged.

"And she needed you too, Gordon." The Commander continued, giving the physicist a chummy nudge on the shoulder. "You may not realize this, but you've done her a world of good. You really seem to have a soothing effect over her. Before you came along she was… cold, and withdrawn. Even remorseless sometimes. There was an emptiness in her. You've changed all that. I think she needed you even more than you needed her."

"Mmm…" A throaty, dubious groan rumbled in Gordon's chest. "I dunno about all that."

The Normandy's elevator suddenly ground to a halt, as Shepard immediately reached up and pressed the emergency stop button. Freeman's eyes darted up in surprise, as he looked around perplexed.

"Listen Gordon." The Commander entreated, locking eyes with him, in a very forthright and exacting tone and demeanor. "Miranda puts on a tough act, but the truth is, her emotional state is extremely delicate." He began to explain, as a heedful Gordon looked on. "She's been used and betrayed more times than I'd care to count, by the very people she thought cared about her the most. People like her best friend. Her father. Cerberus. Gaining her trust was probably the hardest thing I've ever managed to do. That wall she puts up around herself is virtually impenetrable. But you... She's trusted you wholly, from the moment she first met you. Breaking that trust - it would destroy her."

"John, I…" Gordon stuttered in response, trying to process everything. "I-I would never. She's the most important thing I have. I care immensely about her."

A grin beamed on the Commander's face. "I know you do." He admitted, as he turned and hit the emergency stop button again, this time allowing the car to proceed. "I guess I'm just a little over-protective. She's like a sister to me. But let's uh… let's keep this between us, hmm?"

"Whatever you say, Shepard."

A gentle thud informed the two men that they'd reached their intended floor, when the elevator doors split open, admitting access to the lowest deck on the ship. It was a vast, cavernous room - the most spacious of the decks by far. It was also much more dreary and shadowclad than the other decks of the ship. There were a few lights built into the floors and ceiling, but most of the occupied space was taken up by cables, wiring, crates, and two blue and white painted Alliance Kodiak Shuttles.

"Well… here we are!" John exclaimed, as he stepped out with his hands extended to the room as if he were introducing it to a friend.

"Yes…" Gordon bewilderedly acknowledged, as he followed the Commander in, and looked around with a furrowed brow. "The hangar bay... Why are we in the hangar bay?"

"Boot camp." John casually disclosed, as he strolled between two long computer terminals, right past them, and onto the Normandy's vast, wide-open ramp floor.

"...Boot camp?" Gordon beseeched, as he followed along, with squinted eyes, a furrowed brow, and the guise of someone who surely didn't hear what he thought he heard.

"That's right." The Commander asserted, as he leaned back, shifting his weight to one leg, with his arms crossed. "Over the next several weeks, or however long it takes, I intend to train you in basic to advanced hand-to-hand combat tactics."

Freeman seemed to go pale - his face drooped, his eyes sagged, and an uneasiness immediately began to churn in his stomach. "You wanna teach me to fight?"

"I saw your 'fight'-" Shepard admitted, using his fingers to air quote. "-and I use the term loosely, with that turian mercenary, back on the Illustria. I'm sorry to say, but it was pitiful." He jeered, with a slow, methodic shake of his head. "You lack even a basic understanding of simple hand to hand and closed quarters combat."

"Yeah, but - Wait you saw that?!"

John shrugged. "Tali had tapped into the ship's security feeds, remember?"

"Oh… Err, right." Gordon recalled, suddenly feeling embarrassed and pathetic, as his face turned a rosy shade of red. "Well, what do you expect? I've never been in the military or had any kind of training." He embitteredly refuted. "Quite frankly, it's a miracle that I've survived this long! That or just plain old dumb luck."

"Nah, it's no miracle, and it's not luck." The Commander reassured. "You're as tough as they come - Tougher… You've got peak physical conditioning, your natural instincts are dead on, and your weapon proficiency is beyond compare. You're a natural born fighter, you just lack the instruction. You need to learn how to handle yourself when you're unarmed. Being smart and resourceful won't always be enough."

Freeman raised a contemplative eyebrow. "You're serious about this, aren't you?"

"I'm dead serious." John affirmed, without qualm. "You're a wrecking machine with a gun in your hands Gordon. I'm gonna make sure you stay a wrecking machine, even without one."

"What? Just like you?" Freeman commented with a bit of subtle sarcasm.

"Yep. Just like me. Now drop and give me 50, maggot!"


	4. Chapter 4: Controlled Aggression

****Salvation: Episode II - Lair of the Shadow Broker****

Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction and Salvation: Episode I - The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria. These episodes will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. The episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity, though certain themes, characters, and situations may be extrapolated. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.

 ** **Chapter 4: Controlled Aggression****

"50…? 50 what?" Gordon queried - brow furrowed, and a single eyebrow raised. "50 push-ups? Are you serious?"

"Hmph." Shepard's chest bounced with a lone chuckle at how agitated and uneasy the scientist was becoming. A glistening forehead revealed the fact that he even appeared to be sweating, despite the cool temperature down in the hangar bay.

Gordon's eyes bounced around in contemplation. He gulped as an unquiet angst churned about in his stomach and memories of brutish and boisterous high school jocks and gym coaches flashed in his mind. "Oh god, you're not gonna go all 'Full Metal Jacket' on me, are you?"

"Full Metal Jacket?" Shepard asked, confused.

"Yeah, you know…" Freeman put forth with a forceful shrug. "R. Lee Ermey, Vincent D'onofrio. 'You little scumbag! I got your name, I got your ass!'" He shouted out, waving about a pointed finger in an odd attempt to impersonate some sort of authoritative tyrant. "'Now get on your knees and choke yourself!'"

"'Get on your knees and choke y-?!'" Shepard's head reeled back, with a perplexed look engraved on his face. "What in the hell do you think boot camp is supposed to be, exactly?"

Gordon bowed his head, shook it, and sighed as he muttered under his breath. "No one gets any of my 20th century references." After a brief moment, he looked back up at the Commander. "It's from a war movie." He pertly put forth. "You'd like it, actually. It's about the brutal training and the savagery of the Vietnam War."

"Hmm…" John's eyebrows bounced with intrigue. "Pre-invasion war movie, huh? Sure, I wouldn't mind seeing it."

"Would a copy even still exist after the Combine invasion?"

"Possibly." Shepard declared, with no degree of certainty. "There's a preservation society dedicated restoring and preserving arts and media from before the Seven Hours War."

"Oh. Good to know…" The Doctor replied, sounding less than ecstatic as his face crinkled into a grimace. "Anyway, where was I...? I guess I'm doing this?" He conceded with a grumble, as he bent down and planted his palms flat on the floor. "You wanted 50 was it?"

"Hehehe!" Shepard chuckled and chortled as he watched his nerdy friend raise and lower himself from the floor time and again. He may not have been executing the exercise with the speed or rigidness of a Marine, but his overall form was not bad. Pushups clearly were no foreign activity to this man.

"Gordon." Shepard beckoned, trying to contain the laughter under his breath, which was still managing to bubble to the surface. "Stop. Stop." He pleaded, trying to subdue the snickers. "Get up. I was kidding." He confessed, causing Gordon to look up and rise to his knees. "I'm not gonna run you through basic training. I just wanna teach you some techniques and defense tactics that could save your life."

"So… No push-ups?"

"No push-ups." Shepard affirmed, still smirking. "Come on, get up."

A quick compliant shrug, and Gordon was back to his feet. At least for this day, those high school gym class flashbacks wouldn't haunt him.

"Don't think of me as a drill instructor." Shepard urged, waving his hands around as he pondered a suitable analogy. "Think of me more like a personal trainer, or a boxing coach." He insisted. "I still expect you to do what I say, but by the time we're done, you'll be an effective hand to hand close-quarters combatant."

"Okay." Gordon nodded fastidiously. "I'm ready, I guess. What's the first step?"

"Alright, what I'm gonna be trying to teach you is something called ICT, or the Interplanetary Combative Training Program." John began to explain, taking on the poise of a venerated educator. "It's the hand to hand training program that all N7 initiates are instructed in. It's actually a descendant of SOC-P, the training program utilized by the Army Rangers of your day."

"I'll take your word for it." Gordon acknowledged.

"Okay…" Shepard continued the lesson, expelling a sigh with his words. "So the first thing I want you to do is, I want you to forget all those flying kicks, and punching through walls, and any of the fancy BS you might've seen in movies. I don't know what movies were like in YOUR day, ahem - 'get on your knees and choke yourself' - ahem." He cleared his throat and muttered cheekily under his breath, causing Freeman's eyes to roll, but he continued on. "But if you've seen the action movies these days, namely those ridiculous Blasto movies, you'd know they're not exactly within the realm of believability."

"I'm familiar with the Blasto movies-" Gordon quickly offered up. "-but I haven't seen any of 'em yet. He's supposed to be like a hanar James Bond character right? You know, given Bond's promiscuous nature - the idea of a tentacle alien playing him is-" Gordon stopped and cringed as an icy shudder shook his entire body. "Ugh… Well, it's creepy and unsettling. That probably sounds horribly racistist, doesn't it?"

"No…" The Commander groaned. "As someone who's been dragged, against his will, to each of those movies, by a certain quarian who will remain nameless, I can tell you - you should consider yourself lucky Miranda's not a Blasto fan…" He said, sulking. "Anyway. We're getting off track again." He chuckled, with a shake of his head, as he re-assumed an instructor's visage. "Back to the combatives. Now, ICT is designed to do three basic things. Disarm, incapacitate, and get you back to your tools; Your rifle. Your shotgun. Your sidearm."

"Okay."

"Alright, so first. Close quarters combat." Shepard continued to expound, as he took a few steps closer to Gordon, finding himself within arm's reach.

"When we talk about close quarters combat, we're talking about anything within grappling distance, or a fencing measure. A fencing measure is a distance within about two meters from your body. Anything beyond that is what's considered weapons range. So let's start with the upper-body and some basic counter-attack and disarm techniques." He said, hovering his hands over his chest, as if preparing to render a demonstration. "Then we'll move into choke escapes, and some basic takedown tactics. I'm going to show you some examples."

"Now for you, Gordon, I can tell you that one of your biggest fatal flaws is you have too many tells." The Commander declared, as he pointed at the physicist. "You're too easy to choreograph. That turian that you fought on the Illustria? He could see you coming with a punch from a mile away. Hell, I could see you coming from a mile away, and I was down in the loading bay watching you on a camera."

"I told you, I'm no soldier, Shepard." Gordon replied, sounding rather ashamed. "I'm not used to fist fighting."

"It's alright, that's why we're doing this." Shepard readily absolved. "So I want you to take a fighting stance. Are you right handed, or left handed?"

"Actually, I'm ambidextrous." Gordon replied, with a cavalier tone. "And I'm very proud of that fact."

"Well, you have to favor one or the other. Which do you favor?"

"Uh… Right, I guess." Gordon affirmed, after thinking about it for a moment.

"Alright." Shepard said, bringing his fists up and letting his shoulders bounce like a fighter character in a video game. "So plant your right foot perpendicular to your left foot. Left foot facing forward, towards your attacker, right foot facing out, like this." He explained and demonstrated all at once.

Gordon took quick measure of the Commander's movements and posture, and after a moment, followed suit, admittedly feeling a little awkward in the process.

"Good." John acknowledged, as the two stood poised, face to face, as if about to quarrel in an alleyway somewhere. "This is your basic fighting stance. It's the standing position that's the most difficult to be knocked down from. The right leg is holding most of your weight, and thus absorbs a lot of the shock from any incoming blows. Less stagger, more balance."

"Lower center of gravity, harder to knock down." Gordon nodded and shrugged. "Got it."

"Yeah, piece of cake, right? Now I want you to hit me."

"What…?" Gordon queried with dismay, as he let his lowered his loosely clenched fist.

"Hit me." The Commander reiterated, exhibiting even more conviction than before. "Take a jab, a hook, an uppercut. Anything. Hell, kick if you want to."

"Uh-I…" Gordon stammered for a bit, as he seemed to recoil squeamishly. "I don't really wanna hit you, John."

"You won't. Trust me." Shepard proclaimed, with a methodic shake of his head, and a crooked, arrogant smirk. "There's no shot you could take that'll land a blow on me. I want to show you that any kind of incoming attack can be effectively neutralized with the proper technique. I also wanna help you identify some of those tells that you have, that are giving you away to someone that you might be engaged with." He explained, pointing a hand towards Gordon. "Help you conceal your offense a little better. So, if it helps, consider it an order." He sternly put forth, as he raised his clenched fists back up, and retook a fighting stance. "I want you to take your best shot. Do whatever you think you need to do to land a blow on me, and I'll tell you what you're doing wrong. So, come on."

With his shoulders sagging at his side, Gordon sighed and resumed a fighting stance of his own. He studied the Commander for a while - watching him bob back and forth on the balls of his feet. The Commander's eyes, a shade of dusky blue, were zeroed in on him - his pupils focused to needle points. Every micro-motion of his eyes, watching Gordon's hands, his feet - every flutter of every muscle, and every twitch of every joint. At that moment, Gordon's own jade green eyes began to flicker back and forth rapidly.

Wanting to let him take his time and calculate his movements, Shepard watched and waited patiently for Gordon to strike. But after a few seconds the reticent physicist seemed to lose his nerve. Gordon exhaled heavily through his nose, as he let his hands drop once more - but he never unclenched his fists.

John's eyes narrowed. "Gordon, come on." He urged - shrugging with his arms outstretched. "I told you, you won't hit m-MMPH!"

He never saw the blow coming. As soon as he saw an opening, Gordon swung a stiff uppercut straight from his hip right into the Commander's jaw. Shepard reeled back, stumbling, staggering, and struggling to maintain his balance, when a stray supply crate saw an end to that attempt. A clamour erupted as John toppled over backwards, finding no clemency in the cold, steel, floor.

Shepard looked up at the bright lights of the hangar bay ceiling. At least they seemed bright - brighter than usual. That split second he was on his back, he must've realized that he'd never really stopped and looked at how many fixtures there really were in here - this chamber always seemed so dark…

Just then, a worried face popped into his field of view; mouth agape, and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

"Oh my gosh!" Gordon blurted out, as he instinctively clutched his own head with his hands - his finger tips buried in his hair, and digging into his skull. "John, are you alright?!"

With one leg still resting atop the toppled over crate, Shepard sat up in a state of confusion, and looked up at the disconcerted Freeman.

"You…" He began, as a bitter, somewhat metallic taste suddenly filled his mouth. Swirling the fluid around, he brought his hand up and dabbed two fingers to his bottom lip. When he looked down at them, he found a light coating of blood. John looked up at Freeman with a dead stare. "You hit me…"

"Well, you told me to!"

"Yeah, but-" John stopped and looked around, in a state of utter bewilderment, as he sat on the cold metal floor. "-I wasn't expecting it." He finally admitted, as he looked back up at Gordon. "I lowered my guard when it looked like you were gonna hesitate again."

"Well… Yeah." Gordon acknowledged with a contrite shrug that nearly buried his head between his shoulders. "I thought it was like a test, or something. You know, outwitting your opponent, lull them into a false sense of security, catch 'em off guard, stuff like that. You said do whatever I needed to do. Was I not supposed to do that?" He beckoned, with an almost unnoticeable shake of his head.

"Heh…" Shepard chuckled. "You slick son of a- Here, help me up, damn it." He jovially insisted as he extended a hand up to Gordon, who reciprocally was only too eager to assist.

Back on his feet John shifted his throbbing jaw side to side, while rubbing it with his hand. "Argh…" He groaned. "That's one hell of a right arm you've got. That's your crowbar arm, isn't it?"

Gordon's gaze dropped to the floor. A humble smile grew on his face, and he answered with a modest, if somewhat cheeky nod.

"Hmph." Shepard snorted a laugh, under his breath. "That's how you always do it. How you always manage to find a way to win. You outsmart 'em, not out fight 'em…"

"Yeah." The humble physicist acknowledged. "It's how I'm still here."

"Hmm… Alright." The Commander acceded, as he stepped back up to Freeman, preparing to retake a fighting stance. "I'll let you have that one. Serves me right for letting my guard down. But that's the only free shot you're getting in." He affirmed, raising his fists back up. "You're gonna have to work a lot harder for the next one. So why don't we try that again?"

* * *

Over the next few hours, and spanning across the next several days, of the next few weeks - their training session was admeasured into routine.

"Always remember, every part of your body is a weapon. Every part a tool. There's no such thing as being helpless. There's no such thing as being defenseless. If your arms are locked down, use your knees, your legs. Your legs are restrained? Use your skull, your teeth."

* * *

Business as usual went on aboard the Normandy. It was a quiet couple of weeks. Peaceful. But still, the wicked never rest. And so, the most decorated ship in the Alliance Navy and the Citadel's top Spectre got called to action now and again. A red sand smuggling caravan needing disrupting, a raiding party laying siege to an elcor colony, turian hostages taken by human Terra Firma extremist, needing rescue. But each op was quick, each op a success, and then it was back to the training.

* * *

"A hip throw is performed in three stages; the entry, the off-balance, and the execution. From your basic fighting stance, your left hand will grab the opponents right wrist, while you step with your right foot inside the opponent's right foot."

"Like this?"

"Yes, good. Next your bring your left foot inside your opponent's left foot, turning your body and dropping your weight, as your right arm reaches behind your opponent, and hooks under his shoulder. Go ahead. Try it. Humph! Alright, that was good. Again."

* * *

When not in training, and not fighting, life was good on the Normandy. Shepard actually started joining in on Joker's weekly game of Skyllian-5, along with Jacob, Garrus, Kenneth, and Gabby. Though he may not be joining them for much longer, as there was only so much his cred-account could take - heaven knows he lost more credits than he'd ever managed to gain. But when the game was over, it was time for another training session.

* * *

"Reaction time is very important when escaping a choke hold of any kind. You hesitate, you're dead. You freeze, you're dead."

"Eh, I don't think I've ever had much of a problem with reaction time."

"Good. Now, a basic front choke escape is done in three fluid movements. Arm raise, twist, and retaliate. When an attacker engages head on, the most effective way to escape is to raise your right arm above your head, you then twist your body to your left using the brunt of your armpit to break the choke, and retaliate with a back-elbow to the skull. So again, to demonstrate. Raise, twist, retaliate. Alright, now you try."

* * *

Gordon had really come into his own on-board the magnificent ship. When he wasn't in training, or in the lab, he actually found himself making the effort to seek out and converse with the rest of the crew. It was light years from the introversion and reticence he displayed when he first woke up here. Before the Reaper invasion, he still hadn't really gotten to know everyone. But he realized life was short, so he made the effort. There was something about these people, something about this crew he served with that helped him come out of that shell of his. He felt like he was becoming a whole new Gordon, and he was happy.

He'd even taken Miranda's advice and started having weekly therapy sessions with the ship's Yeoman, Kelly. She seemed to think the source of his nightmares were because he was holding onto some deep-seeded guilt. He didn't put too much stock into what she had to say - but it was nice to talk to someone about it. And when the therapy sessions were over, it was back to hangar.

* * *

"Your elbows are formidable weapons. Get into the habit of using them. You can generate tremendous striking power with your elbows. The tip should always be the point of impact. When striking, you wanna keep your elbows in front of your body - aligned with the shoulder joint. Meaning, you never strike with the elbow out to the side of the body."

"More impact when aligned with the joint."

"Exactly. Plus, it lessens the risk of you dislocating your own joint. Now, when properly executed, an elbow strike can render any opponent ineffective. You need to strike quickly, powerfully, and repetitively until your opponent is down. Some key weak points, elbow to the face, to the jaw, to the temple, inside shoulder, solar plexus, and throat."

* * *

Collectively, the crew thought it might not be a bad idea to start having a movie night. One night a week, the crew voted on a few movies to rent off of the Extranet, and gathered for a mini-marathon in the ship's observation room. This week's selection consisted of "Fleet and Flotilla" for those lovelorn crew members, "Citadel", a low-budget retelling of Shepard's defeat of Soverign, "The Man Who Hung Himself" about the comedic antics of an amorous plastic surgeon who may have gotten more than he bargained for, and of course, "Blasto III: From Kahje with Love." Shepard and Freeman had yet to make a single viewing...

* * *

"If you're ever grabbed from behind into a chokehold, like the one the turian on the Illustria had you in, one of the best escapes is a throw from a rear choke. Let me show you what I mean. Now you're the assailant - I want you to attack me with a rear chokehold."

"Alright. Like this?"

"Yes. Now you see - if you've got a good enough hold on me. I can struggle, and I can squirm, and it's not gonna do anything. It's only gonna tire me out. So in a situation like this - your oxygen and blood flow are being restricted, you're blacking out, you gotta get outta this fast. First thing you wanna do is a headbutt. Launch your skull back into your assailants face aiming for the nose if you can. The thickest part of the skull is the back."

"Right, the parietal bone."

"Right. So after you've cleaned his clock, he'll likely have loosened his grip on you. Force your chin into the vee of the arm around your neck. This will prevent him from re-establishing the choke. Then bend and lock your knees - you need to use your weight to your advantage. At the same time your bending your knees, use your right arm to reach up behind you as far back as possible, and grab anything you can - hair, a collar, an ear, anything you can use to gain leverage on your attacker. Once you have that, hold onto their tricep with your left hand, and bend forward at the waist. Make sure to keep your knees locked, pull your opponent over your shoulder, and-"

"Humph!"

"-slam him to the ground. From here, you go into a stomp to incapacitate. Simple right? You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. I think I got it. Let's do that again - let me try it this time."

* * *

Miranda really had become a busybody on-board the ship. Not that she wasn't always one to begin with, but she'd definitely taken on a bigger workload than she had in the past. In all honesty, it had been a while since she'd seen combat - not since the Illustria. When the missions were complete, when the munitions ran low, and when jurisdictions needed to be crossed, it was Miranda filing the mission reports, requisition forms, and travel dossiers. But more than that, when she did find some free time, she spent it trying to plan a wedding.

Tali had asked for her help, and true to her word, Miranda was obliging; spending her days on the extranet, researching locales, caterers, florists, and possible entertainment ideas. She'd shoot suggestions over to Tali via email, who was always quick to respond, and ever so enthusiastic. See, some people are picky - you can never satisfy them. Tali on the other hand, was the exact opposite of picky. She loved everything. If your helping plan a wedding, it doesn't make your job any easier if the bride-to-be absolutely loves 47 different catering options, 29 different venues, and 106 different floral arrangements. Miranda could only imagine the headache that would come when it was time to pick the dress. Her plate was full enough, she scantily had time to wonder, let alone care about, why the boys had been spending so much time down in the hangar bay recently.

* * *

Two set of feet shuffled back and forth, across the hangar bay's plate metal floor, in fluid movement that was almost dancelike. Like two prize fighters squaring off in the middle of a ring, searching for an opening, Freeman and Shepard kept their hands up, balled into fists in front of their faces. John's eyes narrowed, and Gordon's brow furrowed as the two men studied each other with a calculative gaze. Suddenly, John saw an opening and moved in. It was quick, like the strike from a scorpion's tail. Gordon answered back, raising his right arm to redirect the swing - while simultaneously reaching behind Shepard, hooking the back of his head, and jerking it down to his elevating knee.

"Alright, that was a good counter!" John lauded, standing back up after his nose just barely made contact with Gordon's patella. "Deflect the punch, one fluid motion into a grapple, knee shot the face. Good!" He reaffirmed, as he raised his fists, and re-established a fighting stance. "Alright, again. Get your guard up."

Gordon followed suit, as he too recaptured the aspect of a bare-knuckle brawler. His brow once more furrowed - shoulders swaying, feet shifting from side to side. Suddenly, he saw it coming - he saw the flinch and knew what came next. A swift left jab straight for his face. He diverted it. But this time, John was just one iota faster than he expected. A second swing came in swiftly from his right. Gordon huddled up - his raised forearms managed to block the shot, but he reeled back, and turned away with his eyes clenched in response. The same response anyone would have to the notion of incoming pain.

"No!" Shepard decried, as he withdrew. "Gordon, you don't do that! Remember, when engaged, never turn away. Eyes open, head up."

"Ugh, I know, I know!" Gordon groaned, more frustrated with himself than the Commander was with him. "That's just a reaction. I gotta get better at that."

"You gotta learn to fight that reaction." John sternly put forth, austere in his gaze. "Up against a trained assailant, that one little window where you turn away is all they need to hit you with a shot you'll never see coming." He continued to explain, waving a stiff finger at Gordon. "You wanna block the attack, not hide from it. The monsters don't go away if you hide from 'em, that's what Anderson used to say."

John turned and took a few steps away before swinging back around, and resuming the warrior's pose that the two men had become so accustomed to over the past few weeks. "Alright, again. Fighting stance." He ordered. "Take the offensive, come on."

Gordon exhaled a determined breath, and brought his hands back up. He encroached on Shepard - strafing in, light on his feet. His motions apt, his eyes focused, and his senses honed. Just then, came his first swing, then his next. A right hook, a left cross. These were good punches. Shepard had to work hard to deflect them.

"Alright, that's good! Overwhelm your attacker." John encouraged excitedly, blocking strike after well placed strike. "You miss with one shot, come in with another, and another. Hide your attacks with a fast but calculated flurry."

At that moment, and without warning, after the latest diverted shot, John fired back with a right of his own. Gordon countered - swatting the shot away, he twisted Shepard's wrist, torqued back his shoulder, and moved in for a knee to the gut, followed by a sharp elbow to the back of the head, in rapid succession.

"Perfect!" Shepard exclaimed, with elation, as the blows found their mark, but weren't executed with enough force to cause any sort of distress. "That's how you do it, Gordon!" He continued, as the two men seperated. "Disorient your adversary, get 'em off balance, and go in for the take-down. Controlled aggression, I love it. Alright, again!"

And just like that, the two went at it again. Each day that passed, the pace quickened, and the training intensified. But the Doctor was picking it all up so fast that he was really starting to keep up with the Commander.

"So…" Gordon began, huffing under his breath, as the two danced around the shuttle bay. "This Captain Anderson I've heard you mention. He's the one that trained you, right?" He asked, as he took a rapid-fire set of shots, that Shepard adeptly swatted away.

"David Anderson trained many." The Commander replied, as he regained his composure. "I was but one. Humph!" He grunted aloud, as he lunged forward, trying to catch Gordon off guard with a left-hook. But the blow found no purchase, it only found the brunt of Freeman's bolstered forearm.

"You were fond of him. I can tell." Gordon continued, never once relaxing his stance. "I'm sorry for your loss…"

John was silent for a moment - ruminative. "It was the galaxy's loss." He said - trying to shake off the distraction. He came in for another two swift shots - a left jab and a right cross in rapid succession. But again, they only glanced off of the bulwark that was Gordon' arms.

"If it's any consolation-" Gordon continued, as the two continued to shuffle and spar. "-I know how you feel. I never had a drill instructor, but I did have mentors. Losing Dr. Vance was more than I was prepared to take. Drove me over the edge."

John had cocked his right arm back, for a swift hook, but something stopped him. He didn't quite lower his guard, he knew better than to do _that_ again. But stopped himself, as if the fight had been taken out of him.

"The way you talk about Anderson, it reminds me of Eli." The physicist continued, allowing his own hands to drop listlessly to his sides. "It sounds like they had a lot of the same values. Natural born leaders, and fighters to the end."

"Eli Vance?" Shepard queried, as he unfurled his fists, and let them hang.

"Yeah."

"You know, I never really thought of that." The Commander put forth, slipping into an almost wondrous state. "Gordon Freeman had his mentors too… Heh!" He chuckled. "David Anderson and Eli Vance… I guess you could say they were the originators of the Savior of the Citadel and the Opener of the Way. Well wherever they are, I'm sure they're putting in a good word for us."

Freeman smiled. "There's so many people in this world, erm…" He stuttered a bit, as he choked back the term - suddenly remembering he was on a ship in space. "This life, this era, whatever - there's so many people here that remind me of my old friends and colleagues."

"Well, you mentioned Tali reminding you of Alyx Vance. I think you said Garrus reminded you of Bernard Calhoun, and Mordin reminded you of Isaac Kleiner."

"Yeah." Gordon concurred, as he raised a vexed eyebrow. "I gotta ask, though why does everybody I've heard refer to him as 'Bernard'? When he was alive, he went by Barney, not Bernard."

John's initial response a coy shrug of his shoulders. "Every history codex I've ever read refers to him as Bernard." He offered up. "I guess it's how history remembers him."

"Interesting…" Gordon replied, with his brow wrinkled in intrigue. "Makes you wonder if the people closest to Albert Einstein called him Al for short. Or if the people closest to F.D.R. called him Frank or Frankie instead of Franklin.

"I think historians just like to keep things formal." Shepard conjectured. "If the galaxy remembers me 100 years from now, I'll probably be remembered as Johnathan instead of John. But it's good that you're able to find a sense of familiarity and nostalgia among the crew, Gordon. I know how difficult the adjustment has been, after being torn out of your life."

"Well, it's like the world has changed, but it hasn't, you know?" Gordon said questioningly - crossing his arms, with his head cocked to one side. "Kelly thinks that it's a coping mechanism. A way to associate my surroundings with what's familiar to me."

"What do you think?"

"What do I think?" He reiterated, possibly as a means to give himself half a moment to process the question. "I think I'm glad to part of this crew." He said, with a stirring sense of pride. "To have found the same kind of people I left behind. Even if it is just my imagination."

"You got me wondering now, Gordon." The Commander said, as he proceeded to tap a curled index finger against his chin, as he crossed his own arms. "Do I remind you of anybody?"

"You, John? Hmm…" The uprooted 20th century physicist entered a state of deep contemplation. He placed one hand on his hip, and stroked his goatee with the other, whilst his jade green pupils darted back and forth in his head, like a ball over a ping-pong court.

"I wish I could tell you that you remind me of myself, but I don't think we're anything alike." He finally spoke up again, breaking his momentary silence, as he looked back up at Shepard. "You're like this great military leader type. Give these inspiring speeches, and lead people into battle. Me... I mean I fought and everything, but I'm no leader. Hell, I probably couldn't give a speech if my life depended on it. I am a glossophobic afterall."

"Gordon," Shepard began again. "I think you-"

An unexpected crackle of static screeched over the intercom, cutting the Commander off, and heralding a familiar female voice.

"Apologies, Shepard. I do not mean to interrupt." EDI announced - her voice reverberating throughout the entirety of the metallic hangar bay. "My data does indicate how important exhibitions of strength are among males of most species, who are attempting to exert their dominance over rival males."

"Male dominance!?" An aggravated Gordon rang out. "For crying out loud, EDI. This isn't the kal-if-fee!"

Stoic as usual, Shepard merely looked up to the ceiling, and replied. "What is it, EDI?"

"I have a priority message coming in for you from Nos Astra City, on Illium."

"Probably that Illium Producer guy again wanting to sign a movie deal or something." He muttered under his breath, before addressing the AI directly. "Take a message, EDI." He said dismissively, as he approached Gordon again and put his fists up - readying himself to resume their workout.

"As you wish, Shepard." The cybernetic being was quick to reply. "But it might interest you to know that the caller is your former crew member Dr. Liara T'Soni."

"Liara?!" He replied enthused - his eyes beaming, and his mouth curling into a grin, as he looked back up into the shadowy recesses of the ceiling, as if EDI's tangible form were actually there, instead of just being a voice from an intercom. "Alright I'll take it. Put it through to my cabin, EDI. I'll be up in a moment."

"Of course, Shepard. Routing the call now."

"Alright, I think that's enough for one day." John commented, with a final rough house jab at Gordon's shoulder. "Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

"...Okay." The doctor acknowledged with a coy shrug.

"So how 'bout her, huh?" The Commander questioned, pointing up towards the ceiling. "How 'bout EDI. Who does she remind you of?"

"EDI? Oh, that's easy." Gordon quickly answered back. "EDI reminds me of K.I.T.T., from Knight Rider. Except female and way, way, WAAY bigger."

Shepard stopped in his tracks, and turned to face Gordon - meeting his eyes with a furrowed brow and perplexed look. "'Kitt from Knight Rider'?" He reiterated questioningly. "What was that, a resistance group, like the One and Seven? Was Kitt a person? I don't know what… I've never heard of that."

Like the creak from a ornery walrus, Gordon groaned as he drew his head back, and let his arms slouch limp at his sides. "Of course you haven't." He begrudgingly declared. "That's because nobody here has ever heard of anything from the 20th century, with the exception of the Black Mesa Incident."

"Oh, come on Gordon, that ain't true." Shepard declared, playfully nuding Gordon along into the elevator, with his elbow. "You're from the 20th century, and I'd heard of you, old man."

The elevator doors closed on them, just as Gordon rolled his eyes. A minute later, they opened again to reveal a new floor - new to Freeman at least.

"Shepard, I'm a product of 80s television, 90s education, and 21st century warfare." Gordon proclaimed, as the two men stepped through the doors - It was obvious Gordon was in the middle of a rant. "It's very frustrating to find that no one seems to know of any of the shows or movies from my day." He groused, when his eyes finally turned outward and began to process he was in a foreign part of the ship. "I'm gonna have to find some copies and show the crew exactly what-" He suddenly took notice of the room he was in. "-they've been… missing... Holey moley, this is your room?" He finally blurted out in astonishment, as he turned to Shepard who was already proceeding towards his desk.

"Yeah, make yourself at home." Shepard insisted, as he approached the glass display case above his desk - the same one now exhibiting his new Carmenta Illustria model. "I gotta answer this call. I really want you to meet Liara, she's an old friend, and like EDI said, a member of my original crew. She's also one of those brainy types like you, so I'm sure the two of you will really get along great."

As John prepared to bring his old asari friend up on the big screen above his desk, it wasn't clear whether Gordon had heard a single word he said. The adept physicist sort of just seemed float around the room, turning agog in little circles - eyes wandering, and mouth cracked agape. Everywhere he looked he found an intriguing new point of interest that his eyes wanted to explore; a massive aquarium housing a collection of exotic fish from seas spanning across the galaxy, a solid, metallic sphere adorning the coffee table, like a giant chrome ball bearing, an impressive collection of to-scale model ships - many of which were actually lit up and moving, a high-tech equipment locker complete with haptic holo-interface, even a fuzzy little pet hamster running himself silly on a little wheel. It was quite the cabin, but just as his eyes caught sight of the sizeable skylight situated over-head, his attention was diverted back to what Shepard was doing by the loud hiss of static.

As a snowy screen cleared up, it was replaced by a plain image with the word "CONNECTING" etched out across it. But this too was soon replaced by the figure of a very attractive and youthful looking 108 year old.

"Oh goddess…!" The asari on the screen gasped - seemingly agitated, as she tried to control her breathing.

"Liara." Shepard addressed with an eager grin, and a friendly timbre. "How are you?" He asked, before noticing her distraught state. "Is something wrong?"

"Uh, no." She said with an anxiety laden sigh, as she wiped her drowsy eyes with the thumb and index finger of her left hand. "It's just… I've been debating with myself whether or not to make this call for the past several weeks." She finally confessed. "And now that I have you on the line, I'm wondering if this is a mistake.

Liara let her head droop down over her chest, and shook it as she exhaled a profound breath - seemingly lamenting over a decision she'd made, and couldn't go back on now. She looked back up. "I didn't want to involve you in this anymore, Shepard. If I thought I had any other way, I'd- I'd…"

"Liara - what's going on?" John beseeched, cutting Liara off, abrupt and adamant. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"No." The young asari was quick affirm. "But someone I know is. Shepard, I… I didn't want to ask for your help. But I'm afraid I need it."

"Of course, Liara." The Commander reassured, without equivocation. "You know I'll help with whatever you need. What's going on? What's the situation?"

"Not here…" The asari replied, swiveling her head from side to side, as if she was checking over her shoulders. "I can't say much, it may not be safe. Can you meet me?" She pleaded with her eyes. "My office, in Nos Astra"

"Absolutely. I'll have Joker plot a course for the nearest relay, right away."

"It's alright, don't fret getting here, Shepard." Liara said, seeming to breath a relaxed sigh of relief now. "Like I said, I've been debating making this call for weeks. I do need your help, but we have time. I still have some preparations to make, anyway." Her eyes narrowed into a calculating gaze as she looked off to one side. "Some leads to follow…"

"Okay." John acquiesced.

"And Shepard, I…" Liara seemed to stutter and creak, as she tried to force something out. "I-I wanted to say I… I heard about your…Your... I'll see you when you get here. Liara Out." Quicker than the call had come in, the screen erupted into a snowy explosion of static, as Liara abruptly terminated the feed. Shepard raised a lone, perplexed eyebrow - not quite sure what to make of the conversation he'd just had.

His train of thought was derailed, just then, by the physicist he'd nearly forgotten was in the same room as him. "That didn't sound too good."

"No, it didn't." John replied as he turned his gaze up towards the ceiling. "EDI?" He called out.

"Coordinates have already been set, Shepard." The trusty AI was quick to respond. "Jeff is changing course, as we speak."

The Commander beamed a subtle grin. "Good girl." He whispered under his breath, as he turned back to face his fellow human. "Sorry, Gordon - I didn't even get the chance to introduce you." He shrugged, as he reached up and switched the holoscreen off, once more revealing his prized model ship collection.

"That's alright." Gordon excused with a placid shrug of his own. "That seemed pretty urgent, what she needed to talk to you about."

"Yeah. But you know what, you'll still get to meet her." Shepard asserted, with a smug look in his eye. "'Cause you're coming with me, to Nos Astra."

"Hmm…" Gordon hummed indifferently, as he went back to his self-led tour around the cabin. "Well, you know me. Always, glad to help."

"Thanks." The Commander bestowed, as he walked around his desk, and leaned against the metallic siding of his display case, with his arms crossed over his chest. "Gotta say, this whole thing worries me. Liara's smart and tough, she can take care of herself. If she called asking for my help, it can't be good."

"Another job for the ol' high impact reactive combat armor, eh?" Gordon replied, with a heavy tinge of playful sarcasm in his voice.

"Maybe. Won't know until we get there…"

Gordon didn't respond right away. He just watched the various species of fish swim and drift through the brightly lit aquarium. He had to restrain himself from his nagging desire to tap on the glass, which he silently postulated may be an innate human reaction to being around fish tanks.

After that, a brief but eerie silence settled into the room. An air of concern loomed over Shepard, as he listened to the hypnotic whirring of the ship, and the bubbly sounds emanating from the aquarium. He whispered to himself. "Leads to follow, hmm…" He ruminated.

"Eh." He finally said out loud, attempting to shake off his angst. "It'll be awhile before we reach Illium, anyway."

"Yeah…" Freeman was quick to reassure with a jovial smile. "And try not to worry. Hopefully, it's not as bad as all that. It could turn out to be nothing." He shrugged. "Maybe she's got a friend who's in trouble with the law or the Council, or something. You are Spectre, after all. Isn't the whole point of you guys that you can operate above the law or around it, or something to that effect? Maybe she just needs your help in that - your influence."

"Hmmm…" Shepard pondered for a moment, sounding more upbeat. "I hadn't thought of that. Maybe. There was a time she had me go around Illium hacking a bunch of terminals for her. Said she couldn't do it herself."

"Yeah, maybe something like that." Gordon nodded. "She did say not to fret, afterall. So don't worry." He urged, encouragingly, as he turned away from the aquarium and looked out at the rest of the cabin. "That is one hell of a skylight, by the way." He proclaimed, his head cocked back as far as it would go, as he stepped out under it, gazing out at the stars. "This view is fantastic! Heh." He chuckled, as lowered his vision back to the Commander. "Gives a whole new meaning to sleeping under the stars, don't it?"

"Like the room, eh?"

"Yeah, it's nice." He plainly put forth, with a venerate nod. "That's a magnificent aquarium. Not really what I expected as far as armed-forces decor goes."

"Well, maybe this is what you can look forward to when you have your own Command." Shepard replied, somehow sounding both sarcastic and truthful all at once.

"My own command?" Gordon replied, raising an eyebrow with a sense of distaste, as he walked around the coffey table, to get a look at Shepard's model collection. "As in like the Captain of a starship, or something?"

"Why not?" John shrugged, as he walked behind his desk, now viewing Freeman through the glass display case between them. "You're Gordon Freeman. You led the Earth Resistance against the Combine, I would think skippering a starship would be easy for you."

"Eh, 'led' is a strong word." Gordon replied, with a bit of a wince. "Besides, you're the navy guy buddy, not me. I'll leave the skippering to you."

John exhaled a lone chuckle under his breath, as he plopped down in his seat, resigned not to carry the conversation any further. At that moment, and without warning, Gordon uttered something that he could not leave unchallenged.

"This is a nice toy ship collection you got here, John."

Shepard shot up from his seat, and locked eyes with the man on the other side of the glass. "Toy?!"

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Well, I know I'm releasing these chapters at a snail's pace, but hey - at least they're getting released right? I promise that my series is not dead and I'm still working on it diligently, but diligence takes time. Anyway... Here's the next chapter, not a lot happening, but this is definitely the plot propelling chapter. Every story's gotta have one, right? ;P Hope you guys enjoy it!


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